^, 


^  ^ 

'W,^ 


^  \r  ^. 


1^ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


<  4^fi 


z. 


In 


1.0 


I.I 


•iiUi    123 
itt  I4i   122 


lit 


140 


1.25   1  ,.4   ^ 

4 

6"     

► 

Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


'^^ 


23  WIST  MAIN  STRUT 

WIBSTIR.N.Y.  MStO 

(716)«72-4S03 


.<^. 


U.A 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  nrticroreproductions  historiques 


wmif 


Ttchnical  and  Bibliographic  Notaa/Notas  tachniquaa  at  bibliographiquaa 


Tha  ( 
toth 


Tha  Instituta  haa  attamptad  to  obtain  tha  baat 
original  copy  availabia  for  filming.  Faaturaa  of  thia 
copy  which  may  ba  bibliographically  uniqua, 
which  may  altar  any  of  tha  imagaa  in  tha 
raproduetion,  or  which  may  significantly  changa 
tha  usual  mathod  of  filming,  ara  chackad  balow. 


D 


D 


D 


D 


n 


Colourad  covars/ 
Couvartura  da  coulaur 


r~|   Covars  damagad/ 


Couvartura  andommagia 


□   Covars  rastorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
Couvartura  rastauria  at/ou  palliculAa 

□   Covar  titia  missing/ 
La  titra  da  couvartura  manqua 

r~n   Colourad  maps/ 


Cartas  gAographiquas  an  coulaur 

Colourad  Ink  (i.a.  othar  than  blua  or  black)/ 
Encra  da  coulaur  (i.a.  autra  qua  blaua  ou  noira) 


r~n   Colourad  platas  and/or  illustrations/ 


Planehas  at/ou  illustrations  an  coulaur 


Bound  with  othar  matarial/ 
RaliA  avac  d'autras  documanta 


Tiglit  binding  may  causa  shadows  or  distortion 
along  intarior  margin/ 

La  tB  liura  sarr^e  paut  causar  da  i'ombra  ou  da  la 
distortion  la  long  da  la  marga  intiriaura 

Blank  laavaa  addad  during  rastoration  may 
appaar  within  tha  taxt.  Whanavar  possibla.  thasa 
hava  baan  omittad  from  filming/ 
II  sa  paut  qua  cartainas  pagas  blanchas  ajouttas 
lors  d'una  rastauration  apparaissant  dans  la  taxta, 
mais,  lorsqua  cala  Atait  possibla,  cas  pagas  n'ont 
pas  At*  fiim^as. 

Additional  comments:/ 
Commantairas  supplAmentaires: 


L'Inatitut  a  microfilm*  la  maillaur  axamplaira 
qu'il  lui  a  At*  possibla  da  sa  procurar.  Las  details 
da  cat  axamplaira  qui  sont  paut-Atra  uniquas  du 
point  da  vua  bibliographiqua,  qui  pauvant  modifier 
una  imaga  raproduita,  ou  qui  pauvant  axigar  una 
modification  dans  la  mAthoda  normala  da  filmaga 
sont  indiquAs  ci-dassous. 


|~~|   Colourad  pagas/ 


0 


Pagas  da  coulaur 

Pagas  damagad/ 
Pagas  andommagAas 


□    Pagas  rastorad  and/or  laminatad/ 
Pagas  j-astaurAas  at/ou  paliiculAas 

HPKgsf.  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  dAcolorAes,  tachetAes  ou  piqu( 


Thai 
poaa 
of  th 
filmii 


Origi 

bagif 

tha 

sion, 

othai 

first 

sion, 

or  illi 


piquAes 


□    Pages  detached/ 
Pages  dAtachAes 

HShowthrough/ 
Transparence 


Transparence 

Quality  of  prin 

Quality  inAgale  de  I'impression 

Includes  supplementdry  materii 
Comprend  du  matAriel  supplAmentaire 

Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 


I      I    Quality  of  print  varies/ 

I     I    Includes  supplementdry  material/ 

I     I    Only  edition  available/ 


Thai 
shall 
TINU 
whic 

Mapi 
diffai 
antir( 
bagir 
right 
raqui 
math 


Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc..  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partieliement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  6X6  filmAes  d  nouveau  de  fapon  d 
obtenir  la  meilleure  image  possible. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  tha  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ca  document  est  fiimA  au  taux  de  reduction  indiquA  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

»X 

xf 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


tails 

du 
9difi«r 

un9 
mag* 


Th«  copy  fiimad  hw  has  iHMn  r«produc«d  thanks 
to  tha  ganarosity  of: 

Brock  Univtnity 
St.  CathnriiMt 

Tha  imagas  appaaring  hara  ara  tha  baat  quality 
possibia  considaring  tha  condition  and  iagibility 
of  tha  original  copy  and  in  Icaaping  with  tha 
filming  contract  spacificationa. 


Original  copias  in  printad  papar  covara  ara  filntad 
baginning  with  tha  front  covar  and  anding  on 
tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa- 
sion,  or  tha  bacii  covar  whan  appropriata.  All 
othar  original  copiaa  ara  filmad  baginning  on  tha 
first  paga  with  a  printad  or  illuatratad  impraa> 
sion,  and  anding  on  tha  laat  paga  with  a  printad 
or  illuatratad  imprasaion. 


Tha  laat  racordad  frama  on  aach  microficha 
shall  contain  tha  symbol  —»>( moaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  tha  symbol  ▼  (moaning  "END"), 
whichavar  appiias. 


L'aiiamplaira  film4  fut  raproduit  grica  A  la 
g4nAroaitA  da: 

Brocic  Univtnity 
St.  CathariiMS 

Laa  imagas  suivantas  ont  it*  raproduitas  avac  ia 
plus  grand  soin.  compta  tanu  da  la  condition  at 
da  la  nattatA  da  i'axamplaira  film*,  at  m 
oonformit*  avac  laa  conditions  du  contrat  da 
filmaga. 

Laa  aiiampiairaa  originaux  dont  la  couvartura  an 
papiar  aat  ImprimAa  sont  fiim*s  an  commanqant 
par  la  prmni^r  plat  at  tn  tarminant  soit  par  la 
dwni^n  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'imprasiion  ou  d'illustration.  soit  par  la  sacond 
plat,  salon  la  eaa.  Tous  las  autras  axampiairas 
originaux  sont  f  ilm*s  an  commandant  par  la 
pr9mi^9  paga  qui  comporta  una  amprainta 
d'lmpraasion  ou  d'illustration  at  an  tarminant  par 
la  d^ni^f  paga  qui  comporta  una  talla 
amprainta. 

Un  daa  symbolaa  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dwnikn  imaga  da  chaqua  microficha.  salon  la 
cas:  la  symbola  — ^  signifia  "A  SUIVRE '.  la 
symbola  ▼  signifia  "FIN". 


Mapa,  piatas.  charts,  ate  may  ba  filmad  at 
diffarant  raduction  ratios.  Thosa  too  larga  to  ba 
antiraiy  inciudad  in  ona  axpoaura  ara  filmad 
baginning  in  tha  uppar  laft  hand  cornar,  laft  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  framas  as 
raquirad.  Tha  following  diagrams  illustrata  tha 
mathod: 


l.as  cartas,  pianchas,  tabiaaux.  ate.  pauvant  Atre 
film*s  A  das  taux  da  rAduction  diffArants. 
Lorsqua  la  documant  ast  trop  grand  pour  Atra 
raproduit  9n  un  saui  clichA.  il  ast  film*  A  partir 
da  I'angla  supAriaur  gaucha,  da  gaucha  A  droite, 
at  da  haut  9n  baa,  •n  pranant  la  nombra 
d'imagas  nAoasaaira.  Las  diagrammas  suivants 
illustrant  ia  mAthoda. 


rrata 
o 


lelure, 
I  A 


H 


32X 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

I 


KEI". 


t    ... 


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II 


LIFE   AND  LIBERTY 


in 


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>KET(:ilE;>  ;'F  A  TOUB   IN  TUR   C241TEi>  8TATES  AND 

CANADA  IN  l>!57-8. 


BT 


CilAJlLE.S  iU-VCKAY,  LL.D.,  F.S.A. 


m^ 


ti 


>,tr! 


tih  \i'..n  Illustration©. 


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N  E  W    y  O  U  K  : 

H  A  R  r  F.  K    &    liii '  •  V  /n;  i:  '■•,    f  [■  «  L  T  8  H  K  R  .4, 

F  p.  A  K  K  T.  r  K     fl  y  tJ  A  It  E. 
1   8  A  0. 


'«JS- 


-■»-*;- 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY 


AMERICA: 


M-\ . 


€ 


OB, 


SKETCHES  OP  A  TOUR  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  AND 

CANADA  IN  1857-8.         /-^ 


BT 


/  • 


''  k-- 


a 


CHARLES  MACKAY,  LL.D.,  F.S^ 


fiDitl)  (2i:en  Illnatrutione. 


i)40'^i 


-0  *'«.^ 


NEW    YORK: 

HABPEB    &    BROTHERS,   PUBLISHERS, 

FBAMKLIM   SQVABKi 

186  9. 


,    •) 


•\  I 


.  V       ^     I      -  f 


■>"/ 


\v 


■^ 


it. 


PREFACE. 


In  pursuance  of  a  long-cherished  deeire,  the  author  of  the 
following  pages  left  London  in  October,  1857,  for  a  tour  in 
the  United  States  and  Canada.  He  traversed  the  Union  from 
Boston  to  New  Orleans,  by  St.  Louis  and  the  Mississippi,  and 
returned  to  New  York  by  land  through  the  Slave  States.  Ho 
afterward  visited  Canada,  and  published  from  time  to  time  in 
the  Illustrated  London  News  a  few  of  the  results  of  his  ob- 
servations, under  the  title  of  *<  Tbansatlantio  Sketches." 
These  sketches,  after  having  received  careful  revision,  have 
been  included  in  the  present  work,  and  form  about  one  third 
of  its  bulk.  The  remtuning  portions  are  now  published  for 
the  first  time,  and  include  not  only  the  chapters  on  the  great 
social  and  political  questions  which,  more  than  any  mere  rec- 
ords of  travel,  are  of  interest  to  the  lovers  of  human  liberty 
and  progress,  but  nearly  the  whole  of  the  Canadian  tour.  It 
is  not  to  be  expected  that  in  a  residence  of  less  than  a  twelve- 
month in  America  the  author  can  have  acquired  a  thorough 
acquaintance  with  the  institution:  vf  the  country,  or  with  the 
operations  of  social  causes  which  tae  Americans  themselves 
do  not  always  comprehend.  He  makes  no  pretense  at  being 
oracular,  but  has  contented  himself  with  describing  "LiFi^' 
as  he  saw  it,  and  "  Libebtt"  as  he  studied  it,  to  the  extent 
of  his  opportunities,  both  in  the  North  and  in  the  South.  He 
went  to  America  neither  to  carp,  to  sneer,  nor  to  caricature, 
but  with  an  honest  love  of  liberty,  and  a  sincere  desire  to  judge 
for  himself,  and  to  tell  the  truth,  as  to  the  results  of  the  great 
experiment  in  self-government  which  the  Anglo-Saxon  and 
Anglo-Celtic  races  are  making  in  America,  under  the  most 


\ 


•^r 

'  -s 


Yi  PREFACE. 

fitYorable  circumstances,  and  with  nothing,  not  springing  (rom 
themselves,  to  impede  or  fetter  their  progress.  He  returned 
from  America  with  a  greater  respect  for  the  people  than  when 
he  first  set  foot  upon  the  soil.  And  if,  with  his  European  no- 
tions that  a  man's  color  makes  no  difference  in  his  natural 
rights,  he  has  come  to  the  same  conclusion  as  previous  travel- 
ers, that  "  Liberty"  in  the  New  World  is  not  yet  exactly  what 
the  founders  of  the  Union  intended  it  to  be,  he  trusts  that  ho 
has  expressed  his  opinions  without  bitterness,  and  that,  while 
he  can  admire  the  political  virtues  of  the  republic,  he  is  not 
obliged  to  shut  his  eyes  to  its  defects  or  its  vices.  It  is  on 
American  soil  that  the  highest  destinies  of  civilization  will  be 
wrought  out  to  their  conclusions,  and  the  record  of  what  is 
there  doing,  however  often  the  story  may  be  told,  will  be  al- 
ways interesting  and  novel.  Progress  crawls  in  Europe,  but 
gallops  in  America.  The  record  of  European  travel  may  be 
fresh  ten  or  twenty  years  afler  it  is  written,  but  that  of  Amer- 
ica becomes  obsolete  in  four  or  five.  It  took  our  England 
nearly  a  thousand  years,  from  the  days  of  the  Heptarchy  to 
those  of  William  III.,  to  become  of  as  much  account  in  the 
world  as  the  United  States  have  become  in  the  lifetime  of  old 
men  who  still  linger  among  us.  Those  who  bear  thb  fact  in 
mind  will  not  concur  in  the  opinion  that  books  of  American 
travel  are  likely  to  lose  their  interest,  even  amid  the  turmoil 
of  European  wars,  and  the  complications  created  by  the  self- 
ish ambition  of  rulers  whose  pretensions  and  titles  are  alike 
anachronisms  in  the  nineteenth  century. 
London^  May^  1859.  ' 


;./.■ 


'H. 


K  ■■:/:{. 


'U 


CONTENT& 


atur.  VAM 

L  THll  TOTAOB  OCT 0 

U.  NEW  YORK 15 

III.  BROADWAY   UY   NIOIIT 22 

IV.  HOTEL   LIFE 29 

y.  AMERICAN    FIREMEN 84 

n.    FROM   NEW    YORK   TO    1108T0N 89 

VU.    TO  TUB    FALLS    OF   MLAQARA 47 

VIII.    NIAGARA 52 

IX.   NEWPORT   AND   RHODE    ISLAND 64 

X.    PHILADELPHIA 71 

XI.    WASHINGTON 77 

XII.  INTERVIEW   OF   INDIANS   WITH  THEIR    **  GREAT  FATHER"..  87 

XIIL    ABIERICANI8M8    AND   AMERICAN   SLANG 100 

XIV.    THE   IRISH    IN   AMERICA 112 

XV.   FROM    WASHINGTON   TO  CINCINNATI 117 

XVI.   THE   QUEEN   CITY   OF  THE   WEST 125 

XVII.    ST.  LOUIS,   MISSOURI 188 

XVIII.    THE   MORMONS 147 

XIX.    FROM   ST.  LOUIS   TO  NEW  ORLEANS 151 

XX.    "THE   CRESCENT  CITY" 162 

XXI.    FROM    LOUISIANA   TO  ALABAMA 178 

XXn.    SOITTH   CAROLINA 187 

xxin.  SOUTH  CAROLINA — Continued 192 

XXIV.    A   RICE   PLANTATION 199 

XXV.    SAVANNAH    AND   THE    SEA  ISLANDS 208 

XXVf.    VBOM    SOUTH    CAROLINA  TO  VIRGINIA 215 

XXVII.   FROM   RICHMOND    TO  WASHINGTON 224 

XXVIU.   THE   SOCIAL   AND  POLITICAL  ASPECTS   OF   SLAVERY 281 

XXIX.    PRO-SLAVERY    PHILOSOPHY 247 

XXX.    DECLINE   OF  THE   SPANISH  RACE  IN  AMERICA 258 

XXXI.   BALTIMORE   AND  MARYLAND 270 

XXXU.    FROM    BALTIMORE   TO  NEW   YORK 279 

XXXIII.  AMERICAN   LITERATURE,  ART,   AND   SCIENCE 287 

XXXIV.  PARTIES   AND   PARTY  TYRANNY 800 

XXXV.    ALBANY 309 

XXXVL  THE  FUTURB  OF  TH£  UNITED  STATES 814 


iM 


f^>-| 


Tlii 


CONTKNTB. 


CANADA.  .   . 

xxxni.  rtOM  albaivt  to  montbbal 826 

XXXniI.   TO  TUB   TOI>   Or   BEL  UCIL 887 

XXXIX.   THE    ST.  LAWRBMCB 84ft 

XL.    qUBBBO 8ftS 

XU.    TORONTO 870 

XLII.    HAMILTON,   LONDON,   AND   OTTAWA 870 

XLIU.    8IIO0TINO  TUB   RAPIDS 887 

XLIV.    BMIORATION 896 

ZLV.  UOXB   AOAUf 407 


'».■  , 


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.  „,,-.;/.  ■ .  ■  ■ .  ■ 


LIFE  AND   LIBERTY 


AMERICA. 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  VOYAGE  OUT. 


At  ten  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  Saturday,  the  Sd  of  Octd- 
bcr,  1857,  the  fine  stcam-Bliip  Asia^  Capt  in  Lott,  bearing  the 
mails  and  about  150  passengers,  left  Liverpool  for  New  York. 
The  weather  was  the  reverse  of  cheering.     The  rain  fell,  the 
wind  blew,  the  Mersey  showed  its  white  teeth,  and  every  thing 
betokened  a  rough  voyage,  and  a  vigorous  demand  for  tho 
steward's  basin.     The  passengers  were  mostly  Americans. 
Planters,  cotton-brokers,  and  bankers  from  the  South;  mer- 
chants and  manufacturers  from   the  New  England  States; 
Americans  from  Virginia,  South  Carolina,  and  Alabama,  who 
used  the  word  "  Yankee"  as  a  term,  if  not  of  contempt,  of  de- 
preciation, as  we  sometimes  use  it  in  England ;  and  Americans 
from  Connecticut,  Massachusetts,  and  Vermont,  who  gloried 
in  the  appellation  as  the  highest  compliment  that  could  be  be- 
stowed upon  them ;  courtly  gentlemen  who  would  have  graced 
any  society  in  the  world,  and  rough  tykes  and  horse-dealers 
from  the  Far  West,  with  about  forty  ladies  and  children,  and 
five  Englishmen,  three  of  whom  crossed  the  Atlantic  for  the 
first  time,  formed  our  company.     It  was  not  until  the  second 
day,  when  we  were  steaming  along  the  southern  shores  of  Ire- 
land, that  we  began  to  grow  social,  to  learn  each  other's  names, 
to  form  ourselves  into  little  cliques,  coteries,  and  gossiping  par- 
ties, and  to  receive  and  conmiunicate  information  upon  tho 
pleasures  and  the  perils  of  the  Atlantic,  upon  the  state  of  £u- 

A2 


■'M 


10 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AHERICA. 


rope  and  of  America,  upon  the  probable  effects  of  the  great  In- 
dian mutiny  on  the  cotton  trade  of  Charleston,  Mobile,  and 
New  Orleans,  upon  the  great  commercial  crash  and  panic  at 
New  York,  upon  the  feelings  of  Englishmen  toward  Ameri- 
cans and  of  Americans  toward  Englishmen,  or,  in  one  phrase, 
"  upon  things  in  general." 

The  weather  suddenly  became  mild  and  genial,  and  on  Sun- 
day morning,  as  we  skirted  the  coast  of  Waterford  and  Cork, 
there  was  scarcely  more  motion  in  the  sea  or  in  our  ship  than 
if  we  had  been  steaming  from  I^ndon  to  Greenwich,  or  thrid- 
ding  our  way  amid  the  beautiful  lochs  of  the  Caledonian  Ca- 
nal. The  breakfast,  luncheon,  dinner,  tea,  and  supper  tables 
were  regularly  crowded ;  there  was  not  a  single  absentee  from 
the  five  too  frequent  and  too  copious  meals  provided  for  us  by 
our  bountiful  and  urbane  chief  steward.  The  monotony  of  a 
long  sea  voyage  is  such  that  people  eat  for  pastinje.  The 
sound  of  the  bell  for  luncheon  is  an  event ;  and  dinner  is  a 
consummation  of  good  things,  as  well  as  a  consumption  of 
them,  to  which  all  who  are  not  smitten  by  sea-sickness  look 
forward  as  the  very  crown  and  climax  of  the  day,  which  the 
gourmand  and  the  gourmet  alike  contemplate  with  pleasurable 
anticipations,  and  which  nothing  can  impair  but  a  stiff  breeze. 
And  such  a  breeze  sprung  up  on  the  second  day.  Experienced 
travelers  who  had  crossed  the  Atlantic  scores  of  times — who 
spoke  jauntily  of  our  noble  ship  as  a  ferry-boat,  and  of  the 
mighty  Atlantic  as  "  the  Ferry,"  no  larger,  in  their  magnilo- 
quence, than  that  from  Liverpool  to  Birkenhead  —  bade  us 
"  look  out  for  squalls,"  and  for  the  swell  and  roll  of  the  ocean, 
as  soon  as  we  should  pass  Cape  Clear  and  the  Fassnett  Light- 
house. They  proved  themselves  true  prophets.  We  had  not 
left  the  ru^ed  shores  of  the  county  of  Kerry  half  an  hour  be- 
hind us  before  we  made  a  most  unpleasant  acquaintanceship 
with  the  heaving  billows  of  the  Atlantic,  and  felt  the  Asia 
pitching  in  a  heavy  sea,  with  her  bowsprit  one  moment  mn- 
ning  atilt  at  the  clouds,  and  the  next  sinking  as  if  it  would 
poke  a  hole  through  the  bottom  of  the  ocean.  In  a  few  min- 
utes our  decks  were  cleared  of  all  the  fairer  portion  of  the  pas- 
sengers ;  the  crinolines  disappeared ;  and  for  seven  long  and 


THE  VOTAOB  OUT. 


11 


weaiy  dajs  the  mder  and  stronger  half  of  creation  were  left  in 
undisturbed  but  melancholy  possession  of  the  decks  and  the 
dining-tables.  Nor  did  the  greater  number  of  the  gentlemen 
fare,  for  a  day  or  two,  much  better  than  the  ladies.  On  the 
wings  of  the  gale  there  rode  a  fiend — the  fiercest,  most  unre- 
lenting demon  ever  imagined,  invented,  or  depicted — the  arch- 
fiend Sea-sickness,  in  whose  unwelcome  presence  life,  nature, 
and  humanity  lose  their  charm,  "  the  sun's  eye  hath  a  sickly 
glare,"  and  death  itself  seems  among  the  most  trivial  of  the 
afflictions  that  can  befall  us.  One  of  our  English  friends  from 
Manchester,  who  was  very  sick  and  utterly  miserable,  created 
some  amusement  among  those  less  miserable  than  himself. 
There  was  but  one  place  on  deck  which  afforded  shelter  firom 
the  beating  rain,  and  the  spray  that  washed  over  us  in  plente- 
ous cataracts.  This  place  was  the  general  resort  not  only  of 
the  smol  er>%  but  of  all  those  sufficiently  convalescent  to  loathe 
and  abhor  the  confined  air  of  their  state-rooms.  The  name 
originally  given  to  this  resort  was  the  Gridiron  ;  but  the  more 
significant  application  of  the  Spit  was  applied  to  it  by  a  "Brit- 
isher" whom  modesty  forbids  me  to  name,  who  detested  tobac- 
co and  the  streams  of  saliva  which,  whether  *' chawed"  or 
smoked,  it  incited  some  portion  of  the  Yankee  passengers,  and 
more  especially  a  long,  lean,  leathery,  unhealthy  boy  irom 
Philadelphia,  to  discharge  upon  the  fioor.  Seated  in  the 
"  Spit"  was  our  Manchester  friend,  as  comfortless  and  as  hope- 
less as  man  could  look.  We  had  been  five  days  out,  and  it 
was  impossible  to  walk  the  deck  for  the  heavy  seas  and  blind- 
ing spray  that  at  every  pitch  or  roll  of  the  vessel  came  spout- 
ing over  us.  To  eat  was  perilous,  to  drink  was  to  invite  sick- 
ness, to  read  was  impossible,  to  talk  was  but  vanity  and  vex- 
ation of  spirit ;  and  the  sole  resource  was  to  woo  the  slumber 
which  would  not  come,  or  to  form  deep  though  unspoken  vows 
never  again  to  cross  the  ocean  in  the  expectation  of  deriving 
either  pleasure  or  comfort  firom  the  trip.  The  vessel  rolled 
heavily ;  and  a  "  sea,"  bursting  over  the  bulwarks,  deluged  the 
"  Spit"  and  all  within  it  tiU  we  stood  six  inches  deep  in  water. 
*'  I'll  be  hanged,"  said  the  man  of  Manchester,  "  if  I'll  stand 
this  any  longer  I     Steward,  call  a  cab  I"     We  all  smiled,  and 


L       3      i  ^ 


I 


12 


LIFE  AND  LIBEBTT  IN  AMERICA. 


doubtless  our  smiles  were  ghastly  enough,  at  the  earnest  jocos- 
ity of  our  friend's  misery.  It  had,  however,  a  good  effect — 
homoeopathically ;  it  made  us  forget  our  sea-sickness  for  the 
better  part  of  five  minutes. 

On  the  eighth  nighC  it  blew  a  gale  of  wind,  an  indubitable 
storm,  about  which  there  could  be  no  mistake.  Our  average 
rate  of  speed  against  the  strong  head  wind  since  leaving  Liver- 
pool had  been  upward  of  eight  knots  an  hour ;  but  on  that  fear- 
ful night  we  did  not  exceed  two  and  a  half.  The  vessel  groan- 
ed and  creaked  through  all  her  timbers.  The  dull,  heavy 
"  thuds'*  or  thumps  of  the  roaring,  raging  seas  staggered  the 
Asia  through  the  whole  of  her  sturdy  framework.  It  seemed 
at  times  as  if,  endowed  with  reason,  she  had  made  up  her  mind 
to  resist  the  cruel  aggression  of  the  billows,  and  had  stopped  in 
mid  career  to  deliberate  in  what  manner  she  should,  with  the 
most  power  and  dignity,  show  her  sense  of  the  insult ;  and 
then,  as  if  learning  wisdom  in  adversity,  she  resolved  to  hold 
on  her  course  and  show  herself  superior  to  the  buffetings  of 
fortune.  To  me,  as  to  others,  every  minute  of  that  night  ap- 
peared to  be  as  long  as  a  day,  and  every  hour  was  an  age  of 
suffering.  To  sleep  in  such  a  conflict  of  the  elements  was  im- 
possible. Even  to  remain  in  the  berth,  without  being  pitched 
head  foremost  out  of  it  on  to  the  cabin  floor,  and  running  the 
risk  of  broken  limbs,  was  a  matter  of  the  utmost  difficulty,  and 
only  to  be  accomplished  by  main  strength  and  fruitful  ingenui- 
ty of  invention,  and  of  adaptation  to  the  unusual  circum- 
stances. Feet  and  hands  were  alike  in  requisition  ;  and  a  hard 
grip  of  the  sides  of  the  berth  was  scarcely  sufficient  for  securi- 
ty, unless  aided  by  the  knees  and  the  elbows,  and  by  a  constant 
agony  of  watchfulness,  lest  a  sudden  sea  should  take  the  vessel 
unawares,  and  spill  the  hapless  traveler  like  a  potato  out  of  a 
sack.  And  amid  the  riot  of  the  winds  and  waves  there  was 
ever  and  anon  a  sound  more  fearful  and  distressing  to  hear — 
the  moan  of  a  sick  lady,  and  the  loud  and  querulous  cry  of  a 
young  child  that  refused  to  be  comforted.  For  twelve  unhap- 
py and  most  doleful  hours  we  plowed  our  way  through  the 
storm,  praying  for  the  daylight  and  the  calm.  At  the  first 
blink  of  morning  every  one  capable  of  the  exertion  was  dressed 


THE  VOTAOB  OUT. 


18 


and  upon  deck,  exchanging  condolences  with  his  foilow-trav- 
elere  on  the  miseries  of  the  night,  or  inquiring  of  the  oAicere  on 
watch  what  hopes  there  were  of  the  moderating  of  the  gale. 

For  six-and-twenty  hours  the  storm  raged,  and  for  twelve 
hours  after  its  cessation  the  ocean,  witli  its  long  uneasy  swell, 
hore  traces  on  its  white-crested  waves  of  the  [)crturbation  that 
had  been  caused  in  it.    On  the  tenth  and  eleventh  days  the  sea 
was  calm  enough  to  admit  of  sports  upon  the  lower  deck,  and 
several  matches  were  made  at  shufHc-lxjard,  the  marine  substi- 
tute for  the  game  of  skittles.     It  was  played  with  the  greatest 
spirit,  sometimes  Ohio  being  matched  against  Kentucky,  some- 
times Charleston  against  New  York,  and  frequently  England 
against  America.    And,  while  this  was  the  amusement  on 
deck,  cards,  backgammon,  and  chess  afforded  relaxation  to 
those  who  took  no  pleasure  in  robuster  sport.     Among  other 
pastimes,  a  kind  of  masquerade  was  got  up  by  the  sailors,  two 
of  whom  made  a  very  respectable  elephant  between  them,  and 
one  a  very  superior  shaggy  bear.    On  the  back  of  the  elephant 
rode  the  boatswain.    The  first  part  of  tho  fun  was  that  the  el- 
ephant should  continually  throw  him;  and  tho  second  part 
was  that  he  should  continually  remount— 7)cr  foM  aut  nefas ; 
all  of  which  was  effected  according  to  tho  programme,  and  to 
the  great  amusement  of  the  passengers,  and  especially  of  ono 
little  boy,  eight  years  old,  who  laughed  so  immoderately  as  to 
suggest  a  fear  that  his  mirth  would  end  in  convulsions.    Tho 
bear  also  contributed  his  due  share  to  the  frolic;  and  tho 
broad  farce  created  as  much  hilarity  among  our  hundred  and 
fifty  travelers  as  ever  was  excited  on  tho  London  boards  by 
Buckstone  or  Harley  in  the  present  day,  or  by  Listen  and 
John  Reeve  in  the  days  of  old.    At  the  conclusion  of  the  per- 
formances two  of  the  passengers  volunteered  to  go  round  with 
the  hat,  and  nearly  five  pounds  were  tho  result  of  their  solic- 
itations.   But  the  chief  amusements  of  tho  younger  and  "  fast- 
voyagers — smoking  always  excepted — were  bets  and  lot- 


er 


teries.  How  many  knots  we  should  run  in  tho  next  twenty- 
four  hours ;  what  latitude  and  longitude  wo  should  bo  in  when 
our  excellent  captain  made  his  noon-duy  obnervation ;  with 
what  letter  of  tho  alphabet  would  commence  tho  name  of  the 


m 


u 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


pilot  whom  he  should  take  on  board  on  approaching  New  York ; 
and  how  many  miles,  or  scores  of  miles,  we  should  be  from 
shore  when  the  pilot-boat  first  made  its  appearance,  were  but 
a  few  of  the  subjects  of  speculation  on  which  ingenuity  was  dis- 
played to  kill  time  and  to  have  something  to  think  of.  Ten  to 
one  was  offered  that  on  a  certain  day  we  should  run  258  miles 
or  upward.  We  ran  257  by  the  captain's  calculation ;  and  an 
amount  of  money  changed  hands  on  this  question  which  was 
variously  estimated  in  the  ship  at  from  £150  to  £200. 

It  soon  became  evident  that  the  adverse  winds  and  rough 
weather  would  make  our  passage  a  longer  one  than  the  average, 
and  that  we  should  not  reach  New  York  under  fourteen  days. 
We  passed  over  1500  miles  of  ocean  without  having  seen  a 
sail  but  our  own,  affording  no  opportunity  for  the  old  maritime 
joke  always  palmed  off  upon  landsmen,  "  sometimes  we  ship  a 
sea,  and  sometimes  we  see  a  ship."  After  the  twelfth  day 
sailing-vessels  and  steam-ships  were  frequently  met  with,  and 
we  had  abundant  proofs  that  we  were  on  the  great  highway 
of  the  nations,  and  in  the  most  crowded  part  of  the  *'  Ferry." 

On  Friday,  the  16th,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  a  pi- 
lot, who  had  been  on  the  look-out  for  us  for  four  days,  came 
on  board,  and  informed  us  that  we  were  180  miles  from  land. 
He  brought,  at  the  same  time,  the  news,  distressing  to  very 
many  of  our  company,  that  the  commercial  panic  in  New  York 
had  increased  in  intensity ;  that  nearly,  if  not  all  the  banks  had 
suspended  payment ;  and  that  there  never  had  been  a  finan- 
cial crisis  of  such  severity  in  the  whole  history  of  the  United 
States.  At  ten  o'clock  that  night  we  were  off  Sandy  Hook. 
The  navigation  being  intricate,  our  entrance  into  the  harbor 
was  deferred  until  daylight ;  and  at  seven  in  the  morning  of 
Saturday,  the  17th,  having  nearly  completed  our  fourteenth 
day,  we  steamed  for  eighteen  miles  into  the  beautiful  bay  at 
the  end  of  which  stands  New  York,  the  Queen  of  the  Western 
World,  with  New  Jersey  on  the  one^side  and  Brooklyn  on  the 
other.  The  three  form  but  one  city  in  fact,  though  differing 
in  name,  like  London  and  Westminster,  and  occupy  a  situa- 
tion worthy  in  every  respect  of  a  metropolis  that  has  no  com- 
mercial rival  or  superior  in  the  world — except  T^ondon.    .  ^.  , 


NEW  YORK. 


15 


CHAPTER  n. 


NEW  YORK. 


5^^^-'  -       New  York,  Nov.  25th,  1857. 

'  In  one  of  his  famous  letters  to  the  Pcnnsylvanians  the  late 
Eev.  Sydney  Smith  accused  the  whole  American  people  of 
pride,  conceit,  and  presumption.  Smarting  under  a  sense  of 
injuries  inflipted  upon  him,  not  by  the  State  or  city  of  New- 
York,  which  had  not  the  remotest  connection  with  his  griev- 
ances, real  or  supposed,  he  hurled  this  sweeping  denunciation 
against  all  the  states — declaring,  among  other  odd  things,  in 
his  own  odd  way,  "  that  this  new  and  vain  people  could  never 
forgive  England  because  Broadway  was  inferior  to  Bond 
Street."  It  ■  is  fourteen  years  since  the  Rev.  Sydney  Smith 
thus  disburdened  his  mind,  prompted  to  do  so  by  the  fact,  dis- 
agreeable to  him,'  that  his  pockets  had  been  previously  dis- 
burdened by  his  own  desire  of  making  more  than  five  per 
cent,  by  the  transatlantic  investment  of  his  money.  The 
lapse  of  years  has  made  a  great  difference  in  the  aspect  of 
Broadway,  as  well  as  in  that  of  New  York  generally.  But, 
whatever  may  have  been  the  appearance  of  this  great  artery 
of  New  York  in  that  remote  period  of  its  history — a  period 
\jrhen,  as  travelers  told  us,  pigs  prowled  about  the  principal 
thoroughfares,  and  lay  down  at  night  on  the  marble  door-steps 
of  marble  palaces  in  snug  and  aifectionate  familiarity  with 
Irish  immigrants — Sydney  Smith's  assertion  of  the  inferiority 
of  Broadway  to  Bond  Street  is  ludicrously  untrue  at  the  pres- 
ent time.  Bond  Street !  quotha  %  Bond  Street  is  no  more  to 
be  compared  to  Broadway  for  beauty,  extent,  life,  bustle,  and 
wealth,  than  a  dingy  old  farthing  of  the  reign  of  George  III. 
to  a  bright  new  sovereign  of  the  days  of  Queen  Victoria. 
There  is  no  street  in  London  that  can  be  declared  superior, 
or  even  equal,  all  things  considered,  to  Broadway.  It  is  a 
street  sui  generis^  combining  in  itself  the  characteristics  of  the 


16 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


Boulevard  des  Italicns  at  Paris,  and  of  Cheapside  or  Fleet 
Street  in  London,  with  hero  and  there  a  dash  of  Whitechapel 
or  the  Minories,  and  here  and  there  a  dash  of  Liverpool  and 
Dublin.  It  is  longer,  more  crowded,  and  fuller  of  fine  build- 
ings than  the  Boulevard  des  Italiens;  it  is  as  bustling  as 
Cheapside ;  and,  more  than  all,  it  has  a.  sky  above  it  as  bright 
as  the  sky  of  Venice.  Its  aspect  is  thoroughly  Parisian. 
Were  it  not  for  the  old  familiar  names  of  Smith,  Jones,  and 
Brown  over  the  doors  of  the  stores  and  warehouses,  and  the 
English  placards  and  advertisements  that  every  where  meet 
the  eye,  the  stranger  might  fancy  himself  under  the  maximized 
government  and  iron  grip  of  Napoleon  III.,  instead  of  being 
under  that  of  the  minimized  and  mild  government  of  an 
American  republic — a  government  so  infinitesimally  light  in 
its  weight,  and  carried  on  by  persons  so  little  known,  that 
strangers  in  this,  the  "  Empire  State,"  as  it  is  called,  and  even 
the  citizens  themselves,  are  scarcely  more  cognizant  of  the 
name  of  the  governor  than  a  Londoner  is  of  the  name  of  the 
high  sheriff  of  Flintshire  or  of  the  lord  lieutenant  of  Merio- 
neth. 

England  has  given  names  to  the  people  in  Broadway,  but 
France  and  Continental  Europe  seem  to  have  given  them  their 
manners.  Flagstaffs  on  the  roof  of  every  third  or  fourth 
house,  banners  flaunting  from  the  windows,  a  constant  rat-tat- 
too of  drums  as  detachments  of  the  militia  regiments  (and  very 
fine  regiments  they  are,  and  very  splendidly  accoutred)  pass 
to  and  fro,  all  add  to  the  illusion ;  and  it  is  only  the  well- 
known  vernacular  of  the  city  of  St.  Paul's,  spiced  occasion- 
ally with  the  still  more  piquant  vernacular  of  the  city  of  St. 
Patrick's,  that  bring  .the  cheated  fancy  back  to  the  reality,  and 
prove  to  the  Englishman  that  he  is  among  his  own  people. 

Were  there  any  thing  like  uniformity  in  the  design  of  its 
long  lines  of  buildings,  Broadway  would  be  one  of  the  three 
or  four  most  magnificent  streets  in  the  world.  Even  with- 
out any  general  design — for  each  man  builds  exactly  as  he 
pleases — the  street,  in  its  details,  sui-passes  any  single  street 
that  England  or  the  British  Isles  can  show.  From  the  Bat- 
tery facing  the  sea,  where  Broadway  has  a  veiy  ignoble  com- 


f 


NEW  YORK. 


17 


mcncement,  to  Trinity  Church,  there  is  nothing  remarkable 
about  it ;  but  from  Trinity  Church,  of  brown  stone,  with  its 
elegant  spire,  to  Grace  Church,  built  entirely  of  white  marble, 
a  distance  in  a  straight  line  of  nearly  three  miles,  and  thence 
on  to  Union  Square,  and  the  statue  of  Washington,  Broadway 
offers  one  graiyl  succession  of  commercial  palaces.    Formerly 
— and  perhaps  when  Sydney  Smith  wrote — the  houses  were 
for  the  most  part  of  brick  gayly  colored,  with  here  and  there 
a  house  of  brown  stone  or  granite.     But  the  brick  is  in  grad- 
ual process  of  extirpation ;  and  white  marble — pure,  glitter- 
ing, brilliant,  without  speck  or  flaw — is  rapidly  taking  its 
place.     The  St.  Nicholas  Hotel,  one  of  the  most  sumptuous 
buildings  in  New  York,  is  a  palace  of  white  marble,  with  up- 
ward of  one  hundred  windows  frosting  Broadway.     To  the 
right,  and  to  the  left,  and  in  front,  are  other  palaces  of  the 
same  material,  pure  as  Parian — larger  than  the  largest  ware- 
house in  St.  FauVs  Church-yard,  and  devoted  to  the  same  or 
similar  purposes ;  some  for  the  wholesale,  but  the  great  ma- 
jority for  the  retail  trade.      "Dry-goods"  or  linen-drapers* 
stores  compete  with  each  other  in  the  use  of  this  costly  stone ; 
and  such  has  been,  and  is,  the  rage  for  it,  that  in  a  few  years 
hence  a  house  of  any  other  material  than  marble,  granite,  or 
iron  will  be  the  exception  to  the  rule  in  Broadway,  and  in  the 
main  thoroughfares  leading  from  it  to  the  east  and  the  west. 
Most  of  these  buildings,  taken  separately,  are  fine  specimens 
of  architecture,  but  the  general  effect  is  not  striking,  from  the 
total  absence  of  plan  and  method,  already  alluded  to,  and 
which  seems  to  be  inevitable  in  a  country  where  every  man  is 
a  portion  of  the  government  and  of  the  sovereignty,  and  con- 
siders himself  bound  to  consult  nobody's  taste  but  his  own. 
But  this  peculiarity  is  not  confined  to  America,  or  St.  PauPs 
Church-yard  would  not  be  what  it  is,  and  the  noble  propor- 
tions of  the  Cathedral  would  not  bo  marred  as  they  are  by  the 
too  close  proximity  of  the  hideous  warehouses  that  have  been 
gradually  piled  up  around  it — monuments  alike  of  commercial 
pride  and  bad  taste.     Brown  stone  edifices  rank  next  in  size 
and  number  to  the  marble  palaces;  and  a  few  of  cast  iron, 
with  elegant  Corinthian  pillars,  add  to  the  variety  of  architec- 


•:  ¥* 


M-  il 


18 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


ture  in  the  Broadway.  ConspicuouB  among  the  edifices  that 
give  its  most  imposing  character  to  this  busy  and  beautiful 
street  are  Stewart's  dry-goods  store,  the  iron  palace  of  Messrs. 
Haughwout  and  Co.,  such  hotels  as  the  St.  Nicholas,  the  Met- 
ropolitan, the  Lafarge  House,  the  St.  Denis,  the  Clarendon, 
the  New  York,  and  the  Astor  House.  The  jast-mentioned 
was  some  years  ago  the  boast  and  pride  of  New  York,  and  the 
wonder  of  strangers ;  but  the  city  has  outgrown  its  southern 
limits,  and  stretched  itself  fur  away  into  the  north  and  north- 
west, and  new  hotels  like  the  St.  Nicholas  and  the  Metropol- 
itan have  dwarfed  the  Astor  House  in  size  and  eclipsed  it  in 
splendor.  The  St.  Nicholas  makes  up  from  500  to  700  beds, 
and  the  Metropolitan  nearly  as  many.  Both  of  these,  as  well 
as  the  others  mentioned^  represent  the  magnificent  scale  on 
which  the  New  Yorkers  do  business,  as  well  as  the  more  than 
Parisian  publicity  with  which  families  eat  and  drink  and  pass 
the  day. 

Enough  for  the  present  on  the  street  architecture  of  Broad- 
way. A  few  words  on  its  physical  and  moral  aspects  are 
necessary  to  complete  the  picture.  On  each  side  of  the  street 
are  rows  of  American  elm,  with  here  and  there  a  willow  or  a 
mountain  ash.  At  this  date  all  the  trees  are  leafless,  except 
the  willows,  which  still  droop  in  green  beauty,  though  some- 
what shriveled  in  their  leaves  by  the  frosts  of  the  last  three 
nights.  The  roadway  is  excellently  paved  with  granite,  and 
the  foot  pavements  are  equally  good.  But  let  not  the  travel- 
er be  deceived  into  the  idea  that  the  part  is  a  specimen  of  the 
whole.  Broadway  monopolizes  nearly  all  the  good  pavement 
OS  well  as  cleanness  of  New  York  ;  and  the  streets  that  branch 
oft'  from  it  on  each  side  are  uneven,  dirty,  and  full  of  deep 
holes  and  ruts,  through  which  carriage-driving  is  far  from  be- 
ing agreeable.  If  there  be  any  exception,  it  is  in  the  Filth 
Avenue— the  Tybumia  or  Belgravia  of  New  York — where 
the  richest  people  live  in  marble  and  stone  palaces,  not  quite 
so  large  as  the  business  palaces  of  Broadway,  but  sufficiently 
luxurious  and  imposing.  The  street  swarms  with  omnibuses, 
somewhat  smaller  and  more  inconvenient  than  the  omnibuses 
of  London.    Nearly  the  whole  of  them  are  painted  white. 


NEW  YORK. 


19 


No  one  rides  ontside,  for  the  satisfactory  reason  that  there  are 
no  seats.  They  have  no  conductors.  The  passenger,  on  en- 
tering, is  expected  to  pay  his  fare  to  the  driver  through  a  hole 
in  the  roof;  and,  if  ho  neglect  to  do  so,  the  driver  begins  to 
drum  with  bis  fist  on  the  top,  to  attract  attention,  and  forth- 
with pokes  his  hand  through  the  aforesaid  hole  for  the  money, 
with  an  objuration  against  the  passenger  more  emphatic  than 
polite,  and  often  in  the  choicest  brogue  of  the  county  of  Cork. 
When  the  passenger  wants  to  descend  he  pulls  a  cord,  the 
vehicle  stops,  and  he  opens  the  door  for  himself,  and  goes 
about  his  business.  The  New  Yorkers  consider  themselves, 
and  are  considered  by  others,  to  be  a  fast  people ;  but  they 
have  no  Hansom,  and,  indeed,  no  cabs  of  any  description. 
They  have  not  yet  advanced  beyond  the  lumbering  old  hack- 
ney-coach vrith  two  horses,  which  disappeared  from  the  streets 
of  London  more  than  five-and-twenty  years  ago.  A  few  cabs, 
it  appears,  were  recently  introduced,  but  Cabbie,  being  in  a 
free  country,  where  municipalities  make  good  laws,  but  are  not 
strong  enough  to  enforce  them,  insisted  upon  fixing  the  fares 
himself,  at  something  like  a  dollar  a  mile.  As  might  have 
been  predicted,  the  scheme  did  not  work,  and  Cabbie,  instead 
of  lowering  his  price,  disappeared  altogether,  and  betook  him- 
self to  other  schemes  and  projects  for  making  an  easy  living, 
or  emigrated  to  the  Far  West.  The  hackney-coaches  with 
two  horses  are  conducted  upon  such  a  system  of  extortion 
that  one  job  per  diem  may  be  considered  tolerably  good  pay. 
Let  not  the  stranger  who  comes  to  New  York  for  the  flrat 
time  imagine  that  there  is  any  law  for  him  if  he  have  a  dis- 
pute with  the  hack-driver.  The  New  York  Jehu,  who  is  gen- 
erally an  Irishman,  charges  what  he  pleases,  and  I,  and  doubt- 
less many  others,  before  and  since,  had  to  pay  two  dollars 
(eight  shillings  and  fourpence)  for  a  drive  of  less  than  two 
miles,  and  there  was  no  redress  for  the  grievance,  nor  any 
thing  but  submission.  Had  a  bargain  been  made  beforehand, 
one  dollar  would  doubtless  have  been  accepted ;  but  a  hack- 
ney-coach is,  at  the  best  of  times,  and  in  all  circumstances, 
such  an  expensive  and  litigious  luxury  in  New  York  that  few 
people,  unless  newly-arrived  strangers,  think  of  using  one. 


20 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTT  IK  AXERIOA. 


Tho  groat  avenues  that  run  parallel  with  Broadway  are  pro- 
vided with  lines  of  rail,  on  which  numbers  of  very  excellent 
cars,  each  capable  of  accommodating,  with  perfect  ease  and 
comfort,  from  twenty  to  thirty  passengers,  are  drawn  by  horses 
— an  arrangement  which  might  be  introduced  into  some  of 
tho  main  thoroughfares  of  London  with  much  advantage. 

Broadway  is  the  fashionable  promenade — tho  Begent  Street 
and  Hyde  Park,  as  well  as  the  Cheapside  and  Fleet  Street  of 
New  York.  Let  us  take  a  look  at  tho  people.  A  few  car- 
riages— several  of  them  with  coronets  upon  the  panels,  though 
on  what  principle  no  one  can  tell — mingle  among  the  white 
omnibuses ;  and  here  the  negro  coachmen  come  into  competi- 
tion with  the  Irish.  The  ladies  of  New  York  who  go  shop- 
ping in  Broadway  arc  evidently  fond  of  dress.  Let  them  not 
be  blamed ;  for  what  lady  is  not  1  Some  of  tho  journals  have 
been  ungallant  enough  to  attribute  the  late  commercial  panic 
almost  exclusively  to  tho  extravagance  in  personal  adornment 
of  tho  fair  sex ;  but,  without  joining  in  this  silly  assertion,  or 
saying  one  word  in  disparagement  of  that  charming  and  bet- 
ter portion  of  human  kind,  truth  compels  me  to  state  that,  as 
regards  tho  mere  volume  and  circumference  of  hoop  or  crino- 
line, tho  ladies  of  London  and  Paris  are,  to  those  of  New 
York,  but  as  butterflies  compared  with  canary  birds.  The 
caricatures  of  the  crinoline  mania  which  the  world  owes  to  its 
excellent  friend  Punch,  if  exaggerations  of  English  fashions, 
are  no  exaggerations  of  those  of  New  York ;  and  to  get  along 
Broadway,  where  there  is  no  tacitly  understood  and  acknowl- 
edged law  of  the  pavement  as  in  England,  and  where  every 
one  takes  the  wall  as  it  pleases  him  or  her,  is  no  easy  matter. 
Even  without  these  abominable  hoops,  it  would  be  difficult 
for  an  Englishman,  accustomed  to  have  tho  wall  at  his  right 
hand,  to  make  any  progress,  unless  by  a  series  of  provoking 
zigzags ;  but,  hustled  by  crinolines,  the  best  thing  for  the  gal- 
lant man  who  is  in  a  hurry  is  to  step  off  the  pavement  into 
the  road.  Nor  have  the  fair  ladies  all  the  hoops  to  them- 
selves. The  dark  ladies  share  with  them  the  passion,  or  tho 
sentiment  of  the  monstrosity,  and  inflate  their  garments  to 
tho  most  ridiculous  proportions.     Little  negro  girls  of  four- 


MIW  TOBK. 


n 


toen  or  flftoen  years  of  ago,  "with  bright-coloreU  parasols,  bright 
cotton  and  silk  dresses  of  a  width  surpassing  any  credence  but 
that  of  the  eyes  of  the  beholder,  flounder  awkwardly  to  and 
fro ;  and  aged  negrosses,  equally  splendid  and  equally  rotund, 
waddle  like  hippopotami  among  their  Anglo-Saxon  and  Celtic 
fellow-creatures,  as  if  they  had  been  rigged  out  maliciously  by 
some  hater  of  crinoline,  and  launched  into  the  street  to  con- 
vert their  fairer  sisters  to  the  use  of  a  more  elegant  fonn  of 
dress,  upon  the  same  principle  as  the  ancients  inculcated  so- 
briety by  the  spectacle  of  their  drunken  slaves.  There  is  not 
only  a  craze  for  crinoline  hero,  but  crinoline  itself  is  crazy — 
huge,  unwieldy,  preposterous,  and  in  every  way  offensive. 

Another  feature  of  Broadway  is  the  number  of  Irish  and 
Germans  who  swarm  in  it,  on  it,  and  round  about  it.  The 
Lish  seem  to  have  the  news  trade  to  themselves;  and  the 
newsboys  and  newsgirls,  selling  the  cheap  daily  newspapers, 
are  to  be  met  with  at  every  comer,  and  blockade  the  entrances 
to  all  the  principal  hotels.  Kagged,  barefooted,  and  pertina- 
cious, they  are  to  be  found  in  the  streets  from  dawn  till  past 
the  dark,  crying  out  "  The  glorious  news  of  the  fall  of  Delhi  1" 
The  last  *'  terrible  explosion  on  the  Ohio— one  hundred  lives 
lostr*  or  the  last  '*  Attempted  assassination  in  a  lager  beer 
cellar !"  They  recall  the  memories  of  the  old  country  by  their 
garb,  appearance,  and  accent,  if  not  by  their  profession ;  while 
their  staid  elders,  male  and  female,  who  monopolize  the  apple- 
stalls,  look  far  sleeker  and  more  comfortable  than  their  com- 
peers do  at  home,  and  show  by  their  cozy  appearance  that 
they  have  prospered  in  the  new  land.  The  Germans  are 
more  quiet,  and  pursue  more  responsible  callings. 


^VT'  t 


i\ 


■••^.'■.-.■■i*  "   !'■ 


22 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTT  IN  AMERICA. 


i 


ii.' :' 
■■,i 


t    .t.- 


CHAPTER  in. 

BROADWAY  BT   NIOIIT. 


New  York,  Dec.  1,  1887. 

"  I  ENVY  you  your  trip  to  America,"  wid  mine  urbane  and 
friendly  host  of  the  Waterloo  Hotel,  at  Liverpool,  as,  i^^o 
months  ago,  he  took  leave  of  me  at  his  door,  and  wM  •■  \  '-r.A 
a  safe  and  npcedy  passage  across  the  Atlantic.  Thoi  <  ser  u\oa 
to  be  nothing  very  enviable  in  the  matter,  for  the  vvm'!  iiad 
been  howling  all  the  night,  the  mercury  in  tho  ,1.'  i  was  full- 
ing, the  rain  was  beating  against  the  windows,  and  the  pros- 
pects of  the  voyage,  all  things  considered,  seemed  tlie  revenie 
of  agreeable. 

"And  why?*'  said  I,  with  a  faint  and,  doubtless,  unsuccess- 
ful attempt  to  look  comfortable  and  happy. 

"  Because,"  replied  he,  his  joyous  features  beaming  out  into 
a  still  greater  refulgence  of  smiles  than  they  had  previously 
worn,  "  yov  v.  ill  get  such  delicious  oysteis  I  Now  York  beats 
all  creation  for  oysters."         .  '^ 

Mine  host  &poke  the  truth.  There  is  no  place  in  the  world 
where  there  are  such  fine  oysters  as  in  New  York,  and  the 
sea-board  cities  of  America ;  fine  in  flavor,  and  of  a  size  un- 
paralleled in  the  oyster  beds  of  Whitstable,  Ostend,  or  the 
once  celebrated  Rocher  de  Cancale.  Nor  has  the  gift,  of  oys- 
ters been  bestowed  upon  an  ungrateful  people.  If  one  may 
judge  from  appearances,  the  delicacy  is  highly  relished  and  es- 
teemed by  all  classes,  from  tL^  :•.'  'lot  aire  in  the  Fifth  Avenue 
to  the  "Boy"  in  the  Bower  ,  '•  i  Grcrma  uud  Irish  emi- 
grants in  their  own  peculiar  quarters  of  the  city,  which  (soft 
dit  en  passant)  seem  to  monopolize  all  the  filth  to  be  found  in 
Manhattan.  In  walking  up  Broadway  by  day  or  by  night — 
but  more  especially  by  night — the  stranger  can  not  but  re- 
mar]  the  great  number  of  "  Oyster  Saloons,"  "  Oyster  and 
Cofic.j  Saloons,"  and  "Oyster  and  Lager  Beer  Saloons,"  which 
solicit  him  at  every  turn  to  stop  and  taste.     These  saloons— 


BROADWAY  BT  NIOHT. 


many  of  if"*ni  yery  handsomely  Atted  up— ^tre,  like  th«  drink- 
ing  Miloofi!«  iu  (tormany,  situated  in  vaults  ur  celbir*,  with 
steps  froi>  ^  e  strvoi ;  but,  unlike  their  Gorman  models,  they 
occupy  the  undrn  r.nnd  stories  of  thf  njost  ntatcly  cooiniorcial 
palaces  oi  that  city.  In  t!jp«*,  a<*  in  the  hotels,  oyster*  a*»  largo 
as  a  lady's  hand  tiro  to  bo  hud  u(  uU  hours,  either  from  the 
shell,  as  they  arc  commonly  i^aten  in  England,  or  cooked  m 
twenty,  or,  perhapfs^n  forty  or  a  hundred  difit^ront  ways 
Oysters  pickled,  stewed,  baked,  roastoci,  fried,  and  scolt/Apcd ; 
oysters  made  into  soups,  patties,  and  puddings;  oy»terH  with 
condiments  and  without  condiments ;  oysters  for  brcakfa^ 
dinner,  and  supper;  oysters  without  stint  or  limit — fresh  f  * 
the  fresh  air,  and  almost  as  abundant — are  daily  ot^  red  t 
the  palates  of  the  Manhuttanesc,  and  appreciated  with  all  the 
gratitude  which  such  a  bounty  of  /lature  ought  to  inspire. 
The  shore  of  Jjong  Island,  fronting  he  Long  Island  Sound, 
for  one  hundred  and  fifteen  miles,  ih  one  long  succession  of 
oyster-beds.  Southward,  along  the  co.'Ht  of  New  Jersey,  and 
down  to  Delaware,  Pennsylvania  and  "V  rginia,  and  northward 
and  eastward  to  Rhode  Island  and  Massachusetts,  the  same 
delicacies  abound,  and  foster  a  large  and  very  lucrative  com- 
merce. In  City  Island,  tjie  whole  population,  consisting  of 
400  persons,  i»  employed  in  the  cultivati*  -n  of  oysters.  Tlie 
City  Islanders  are  represented  as  a  very  h'  nest,  peculiar,  and 
primitive  community,  who  intermarry  entirely  among  them- 
selves, and  drive  a  very  flourishing  business.  The  oyster  which 
they  rear  is  a  particular  favorite.  Other  cj^teemed  varieties 
come  from  Shrewsbury,  Cow  Bay,  Oy.ster  Bay,  Rock  Bay, 
Saddle  Rock,  Virginia  Bay,  and  Spuytcn  Duyvel.  It  is  re- 
lated of  an  amiable  English  earl,  who  a  few  years  ago  paid  a 
visit  to  the  United  States,  tljat  his  great  delight  was  to  wander 
up  and  down  Broadway  at  night,  and  visit  the  principal  oyster 
saloons  in  succession,  regaling  himself  upon  fried  oysters  at 
one  place,  upon  stewed  oysters  at  another,  upon  roasted  oysters 
fvt  a  third,  and  winding  up  the  evening  by  a  dish  of  oysters  d 
Anglaise,  On  leaving  New  York  to  return  to  England,  he 
miscalculated  the  time  of  sailing  of  the  steamer,  and  found  that 
he  had  an  hour  and  a  half  upon  his  hands. 


J] 


24 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


ill,.;, 

I  ■■■{  ^'Iw 


h: 


*'  What  shall  wo  do  V*  said  tho  American  friend .  who  had 
come  to  see  him  off. 

*^  Return  to  Broadway/'  said  his  lordship,  "  and  have  some 
more  oysters."        .    v.: 

As  nearly  all  tho  theatres  are  in  Broadway,  the  Broadway 
oyster  saloons  command  at  night  a  traffic  even  larger  than  by 
day.  "Frufjes  comumcre  natV*  may  designate  humanity  else- 
where, but  here  the  quotation  may  be^ut  of  place,  for  man 
seems  born  to  consume  "  oysters." 

Seated  in  one  of  these  saloons,  and  amused  at  the  satisfac- 
tion with  which  a  company  of  Germans  were  consuming  pickled 
oysters,  and  inhaling  tho  Lager  bkr^  which  the  United  States 
owe  to  the  German  immigration,  I  heard  a  sudden  rush  and 
rumble  in  Broadway. 

"What  is  the  matter r  said  L 

"  Only  a  fire,"  replied  an  American  friend ;  "  but  don*t 
move.  Nobody  thinks  any  thing  about  fires  here.  Fires  are 
familiar  incidents.  They  are  an  institution  of  the  country; 
we  are  proud  of  them.  Besides,  we  do  not  believe  all  the 
alarms  of  fire  that  are  raised,  for  the  *  boys'  like  to  havo  a 
run.  If  your  own  walls  are  heated  by  a  conflagration  next 
door,  you  may  bestir  yourself,  but  not  till  then." 

"  But  I  have  heard  much  of  the  firemen,  and  should  like  to 
see  some  of  them." 

"  They  also  are  an  *  institution'  in  America,  and  if  you  have 
not  seen  them  we  will  go  round  to  their  bunk-rooms." 

"  Bunk-rooms  1"  I  inquired,  suggestively,  for  the  word  was 
new. 

"  Yes,  bunk-rooms ;  where  they  bunk  together." 

"Bunk  together f 

"  Yes ;  bunk,  sleep,  chum,  live  together." 

We  emerged  into  Broadway.  But  there  was  no  fire.  It 
was  only  a  procession  of  firemen,  with  their  engines  (or  en- 
gines,  as  the  word  is  generally  pronounced  in  America),  their 
ladders,  and  their  hooks.  Thousands  of  people  lined  both 
sides  of  Broadway.  It  was  a  lovely  night,  clear,  crisp,  and 
cold,  and  the  rays  of  the  moon  fell  upon  the  marble  edifices 
with  a  brilliancy  as  if  they  had  fallen  upon  icebergs  or  the 


BROADWAY  BY  NIGHT. 


25 


snowy  summits  of  hills.  Every  object  was  sharp  and  dis- 
tinct ;  and  the  white  spire  of  Grace  Church,  more  than  a  mile 
distant,  stood  out  in  bold  relief  against  the  blue  sky,  as  well 
defined  in  all  its  elegant  tracery  as  if  it  had  not  been  more 
than  a  hundred  yards  off.  It  was  a  grand  "  turn  out"  of  the 
firemen.  Each  company  had  its  favorite  engine,  of  which  it 
is  as  fond  as  a  captain  is  of  his  ship,  gayly  ornamented  with 
ribbons,  flags,  streaiaers,  and  flowers,  and  preceded  by  a  band 
of  music.  Each  engine  was  dragged  along  the  streets  by  the 
firemen  in  their  peculiar  costume  —  dark  pantaloons,  with 
leathern  belt  around  the  waist,  large  boots,  a  thick  red  shirt, 
with  no  coat  or  vest,  and  the  ordinary  fireman's  helmet.  Each 
man  held  the  rope  of  the  engine  in  one  hand,  and  a  blazing 
torch  in  the  other.  The  sight  was  peculiiirly  impressive  and 
picturesque.  I  counted  no  less  than  twenty  different  com- 
panies, twenty  engines,  and  twenty  bands  of  music — the  whole 
procession  taking  upward  of  an  hour  to  pass  the  point  at 
which  I  stood.  The  occasion  of  the  gathering  was  to  receive 
a  fire  company  on  its  return  from  a  complimentary  visit  to 
another  fire  company  in  the  adjoining  Commonwealth  of 
Rhode  Island,  a  hundred  miles  off.  Such  interchanges  of 
civility  and  courtesy  are  common  among  the  "  boys,"  who  in- 
cur very  considerable  expense  in  making  them,  the  various 
companies  presenting  each  other  with  testimonials  of  regard 
and  esteem  in  the  shape  of  silver  claret-jugs,  candelabra,  tea 
services,  etc.  But  the  peculiarities  of  the  firemen,  the  consti- 
tution of  their  companies,  the  life  they  lead,  and  their  influ- 
ence in  the  local  politics  and  government  of  the  great  cities  of 
the  Union,  are  quite  a  feature  in  American  civic  life,  totally 
different  from  any  thing  we  have  in  England,  and  so  curious 
in  every  way  as  io  deserve  the  more  elaborate  consideration 
which  I  propose  to  give  them  hereafter. 

My  present  purpose  is  with  the  night  aspects  of  Broadway 
— a  street  that  quite  as  much  as  any  street  in  London  or 
Paris  affords  materials  for  the  study  of  life  and  character.  In 
one  respect  it  is  superior  to  the  streets  of  London.  Being  the 
main  artery  of  a  great  and  populous  capital,  it  may  be  sup- 
posed that  vice  reigns  rampant  within  it  as  soon  as  night  has 

B 


m 

V. 


i4i  K 


i- 1  41 


26 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


darkened.  But,  whatever  may  be  the  amount  of  licentious- 
ness in  the  city,  it  does  not  expose  itself  to  public  view  in  the 
open,  glaring,  unblushing,  brazen,  and  disgusting  manner  in 
which  Londoners  behold  it  in  the  Haymarket,  Piccadilly,  Re- 
gent Street,  and  the  Strand.  I  do  not  speak  of  hidden  im- 
morality ;  but,  as  regards  the  public  exhibition  of  vice,  New 
York  is  infinitely  more  modest  than  London,  and  almost  as 
modest  as  Paris.  We  know,  however,  tbat  the  outside  ap- 
pearance of  Paris  is  but  hypocrisy,  and  a  cloak  to  vice  more 
shameless — or  shameful — than  any  thing  of  which  London 
has  ever  been  guilty ;  and  perhaps  the  same  may  be  said  of 
New  York.  However,  upcn  this  point  I  forbear  to  dwell.  I 
simply  record  the  fact  that,  to  all  outward  appearance.  New 
York  is  much  more  decent  and  decorous  than  London. 
.  A  few  nights  after  the  torchlight  procession  of  the  firemen,! 
when  making  my  way  from  the  Astor  House  to  the  St.  Nicho- 
las, in  the  midst  of  a  thick  drizzling  rain,  I  was  somewhat  sur- 
prised to  see  a  shower  of  rockets  and  blue-lights  blazing  from 
the  middle  of  the  street,  and  to  hear  a  confused  war  of  shout- 
ing voices,  the  blast  of  trumpets,  and  the  beat  of  drums.  But 
the  majestic  roar  of  the  multitude — the  grandest  sound  in 
nature — predominated  above  all  other  noises.  Broadway  was 
impassable.  All  the  omnibuses  had  turned  out  of  their  usual 
track,  and  were  making  their  way  by  the  back  streets  and 
parallel  avenues  to  their  several  points  of  arrival  and  depart- 
ure. Had  such  a  gathering  been  permitted  in  the  streets  of 
London  by  night,  there  might  have  been  fears  for  the  safety 
of  the  Bank  of  England  and  the  Mint ;  and  had  it  occurred 
in  the  streets  of  Paris,  the  empire  of  the  third  Napoleon  would 
have  stood  a  chance  of  once  more  giving  way  to  a  republic  or 
some  other  form  of  government ;  but  in  New  York — where 
there  is  scarcely  a  policeman  to  be  seen — it  seemed  to  excite 
no  alarm,  but  considerable  curiosity.  As  I  pushed,  or  insin- 
uated myself  as  well  as  I  could  through  the  dense  mass,  the 
rockets  kept  pouring  up  to  the  sky  in  more  rapid  succession  ; 
the  uproar  of  the  people's  voices  swelled  louder  and  louder ; 
and  when  I  came  within  one  hundred  yards  of  the  St.  Nicho- 
las, I  found  that  that  building  was  the  very  point  of  attrac- 


fc^^^ 


BROADWAY  BY  NIOHT. 


27 


tion,  and  that  an  excited  orator  was  addrcMfiing  a  still  more 
excited  auditory  from  the  balcony.  Tliickiy  Mattered  among 
the  multitude  were  grimy  fellows  in  their  shirt-sleeves,  who 
held  aloft  blazing  torches,  and,  at  each  rounded  period  of  the 
orator's  address,  waved  them  in  the  air,  and  signaled  the  crowd 
to  cheer,  shout,  and  huzza.  I  could  not  obtain  admission  into 
my  own  abode  for  the  pressure  of  the  multitude,  but,  after  a 
quarter  of  an  hour,  succeeded  in  getting  ingress  by  the  back 
door.  Making  my  way  to  the  balcony,  I  discovered  that  the 
speaker  was  the  Mayor  of  New  York,  elected  by  universal  suf- 
frage, who  was  addressing  his  constituents  at  that  lato  hour 
— ^nearly  eleven  o'clock — and  soliciting  at  their  hands  the 
honor  of  re-election  to  the  mayoralty.  That  upturned  sea  of 
human  faces,  heedless  of  the  rain  that  beat  down  upon  them, 
eagerly  intent  upon  the  hard  words  that  iho  mayor  was 
launching  against  his  political  opponents— the  moving,  ex- 
cited, surgmg,  roaring  mass,  irradiated,  as  it  swayed  to  and 
fro,  by  the  gleam  and  glare  of  hundreds  of  torches  wildly 
waved  in  the  air,  formed  a  most  picturesque  spectacle. 

The  mayor,  brother  of  the  theatrical  speculator,  to  .whom 
the  world  owes  the  nuisance  and  the  slang  of  the  so-called 
"  negro"  minstrelsy,  had  been  accused  by  his  opponents  in  the 
press,  and  at  public  meetings,  o^  every  crime,  public  and  pri- 
vate, which  it  was  possible  for  a  man  to  commit  short  of  mur- 
der, and  in  terms  so  gross  and  open  that  the  horsehair  wig  of 
any  judge  in  England  might  have  stood  on  end  with  surprise 
at  the  audacity  of  the  libels,  if  brought  under  his  cognizance 
for  trial.  But  the  mayor,  unabashed  and  undismayed,  seemed 
to  consider  the  chaises  against  his  character  to  bo  quite  con- 
sistent with  the  ordinary  tactics  of  party  strife,  and  contented 
himself  with  simple  retaliation,  and  the  use  of  the  broadest, 
most  vernacular  tu  quoque  which  it  was  possible  to  apply.  It 
was  difficult  to  avoid  feeling  some  alarm  that,  if  the  police 
were  not  requisite  in  such  a  meeting,  the  firemen  speedily 
would  be,  either  from  the  effects  of  the  rockets  and  Roman 
candles,  or  from  those  of  the  torches.  But  no  harm  came  of 
the  demonstration ;  and  a  dozen  or  twenty  similar  meetings 
by  torchlight  have  since  been  held  by  the  mayor  and  his  rivals 


^t 


28 


LIFK  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


in  other  parts  of  the  city.  Surely  a  population  among  whom 
such  nightly  saturnalia  are  possible  without  a  general  assault 
upon  all  the  shops  and  stores  in  the  city  has  an  innate  respect 
for  the  laws  of  tneum  and  tuumi  But  politics  arc  the  life  of 
this  people.  Every  man  is  a  voter ;  and  every  officer,  general 
or  local,  president,  governor,  mayor,  alderman,  city  or  state 
treasurer,  the  officers  of  the  militia,  even  the  firemen,  are  elect- 
ed by  universal  suffrage  and  the  ballot-box. 

But,  with  all  this  respect  for  property — if  these  midnight 
and  torchlight  meetings  of  an  excited  multitude  in  one  of  the 
richest  streets  in  the  world  prove,  as  they  seem  to  do,  the  in- 
herent peaccableness  and  respect  for  law  of  citizens — New 
York  is  not  a  city  where  either  life  or  property  is  very  secure. 
The  daily  journals  teem  with  accounts  of  murder,  robbery,  and 
outrage;  and  this  morning  one  of  the  most  influential  papers 
asserts  in  its  most  prominent  leading  article  that  during  the 
past  three  years  New  York  has  been  sinking  in  the  scale  of 
public  respectability ;  that  citizens  resort  to  the  expedients  of 
border  life,  and  assume  the  habits  of  a  semi-barbarous  society 
for  the  preservation  of  their  property  and  the  safety  of  their 
persons ;  that  ladies  are  stopped  and  robbed  in  the  broad  light 
of  day;  ^hat  murderous  affrays  take  place  with  practical  im- 
punity to  the  perpetrators  within  reach  of  the  public  offices 
and  under  the  very  eye  of  the  chief  magistrate  of  the  city ; 
and  that  decent  people  go  about  their  daily  business  armed 
as  if  an  enemy  lurked  in  every  lane  and  gateway  of  the 
streets. 

This,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  is  an  exaggeration  in  the  interest 
of  the  rival  candidate  for  the  office  of  mayor ;  but  there  can, 
unfortunately,  be  no  doubt  that  the  police  of  New  York  is  not 
equal  to  its  duties,  and  that  robberies,  accompanied  with  vio- 
lence and  murder,  are  of  more  frequeift  occurrence  here  than 
in  any  other  city  in  the  world  of  the  same  size  and  popula- 
tion. Whether  the  citizens  of  New  York  relish  the  prospect 
or  not,  they  will  have,  ere  many  years,  to  increase  their  taxes 
and  their  police  force,  and  regulate  it  more  stringently,  and 
by  some  more  efficacious  mode  than  by  universal  suffrage,  and 
by  the  votes  of  the  very  "  rowdies'*  and  blackguards  they  wish 


HOTEL  LIF£. 


29 


to  repress,  if  they  will  not  resort,  in  the  last  extremity  of  des- 
peration, to  the  Californian  substitution  of  a  Vigilance  Com- 
mittee.    ■"■'■(  •■■^■^'■i,:-^:'-'-: 


CHAPTER  IV. 

HOTEL  UFE. 


New  York,  Dec.  9,  1857. 
Praise  the  cities  of  America,  admire  the  greatness  and 
wealth  of  the  country,  extol  the  enterprise  and  "  go-ahcad- 
ativeness"  of  the  people,  or  expatiate  on  the  glorious  future 
before  the  republic,  and  there  is  a  class  of  persons  in  this  city 
who  reply  to  your  enthusiasm  with  a  sneer,  and  assert  that 
they  have  "  heard  all  that  sort  of  thing  before,"  and  "  can 
stand  a  great  deal  of  it"  without  evil  consequences  to  their 
health  or  digestion.  But  if,  on  the  other  hand,  the  stranger, 
in  the  exercise  of  his  independent  judgment,  presume  to  dis- 
approve or  condemn  any  thing  in  the  manners  of  the  people, 
or  hint  a  doubt  as  to  the  perfect  wisdom  of  an;  one  of  their 
social  or  political  institutions,  the  porcupines  of  the  press  raise 
their  quills,  and  grow  exceedingly  angry.  To  them  optimism 
or  pessimism,  or  the  medium  between  the  two,  is  equally  dis- 
tasteful. No  matter  how  honest  may  be  the  praise  or  how 
gentle  the  expression  of  disapproval,  they  do  not  like  it.  They 
seem  to  suspect  all  praise  to  be  a  sham  or  a  mockery,  and  to 
feel  all. dispraise  to  be  an  insult  and  an  outrage.  In  these 
respects  they  differ  from  Englishmen,  all  of  whom  can  bear 
with  the  most  patient  equanimity  the  rubs  that  would  almost 
drive  such  sensitive  Americans  out  of  their  wits.  It  must  be 
confessed,  however,  that  the  more  reflective  among  the  Amer- 
icans, who  have  seen  the  world,  and  are  more  assured  of  the 
strength  and  position  of  their  mighty  republic,  take  things 
mere  easily ;  accept  praise  as  their  due  in  the  same  generous 
spirit  in  which  it  is  offered ;  and  endeavor  to  learn  wisdom 
from  the  criticism  of  people  who  cross  the  Atlantic  to  see, 
hear,  and  judge  for  themselves.  Even  if  they  do  not  agree 
with  the  adverse  criticism,  they  have  philosophy  and  common 


r?" 


if  ? 


80 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


:':!! 


I'iii'  i 


I 


sense  enough  to  be  undisturbed  by  it,  even  when  it  seems  to 
be  hostile.  It  is  a  pity,  however,  that  such  gentlemen  and 
philosophers  are  not  more  common  both  in  the  press  and  in 
society. 

In  describing  the  aspects  of  hotel  life  in  New  York  and  in 
the  other  great  cities  of  America  as  they  have  impressed  me, 
it  is  possible  that  I  may  incur  the  displeasure  of  those  who 
hold  that  the  "  things  of  America"  should,  like  the  "  cosas  de 
Espanay'  be  kept  sacred  from  all  foreigners  as  things  which 
they  can  not  understand,  and  which  they  must  not  touch  upon 
except  under  the  penalty  of  ridicule  or  misinterpretation  of 
motives.  Nevertheless,  if  my  judgment  be  imperfect,  it  shall, 
at  all  events,  be  honest ;  and,  as  regards  this  particular  ques- 
tion of  hotel  life,  there  are  many  thousands  of  estimable  and 
reflecting  men  and  women  in  America  who,  I  feel  confident, 
will  agree  in  the  estimate  I  form  of  it. 

The  hotels  in  the  great  cities  of  America — in  New  York, 
Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  Washington,  New  Orleans,  Chicago, 
Boston,  etc. — are  conducted  on  a  peculiar  system,  and  in  a 
style  of  much  magnificence.  The  British  Isles  possess  no 
such  caravansaries.  Even  the  monster  Hotel  du  Louvre  in 
Paris  is  scarcely  to  be  compared  with  such  establishments  as 
the  St.  Nicholas,  the  Metropolitan,  the  Astor  House,  and 
many  others  in  New  York.  Some  of  them  make  up  from 
five  hundred  to  a  thousand  beds,  and  others  from  two  to  five 
hundred.  The  country  is  so  immense,  the  distances  from 
point  to  point  are  so  great — such  as  from  New  Orleans  to 
Boston,  or  from  New  York  to  Chicago,  Detroit,  and  the  Far 
West ;  the  activity  of  commerce  is  so  incessant,  and  its  rami- 
fications so  extensive,  that  a  much  larger  class  of  people  than 
with  us  is  compelled  by  business,  public  and  private,  to  be 
continually  upon  the  move.  In  England,  hotels  are  conduct- 
ed in  a  style  suitable  to  the  days  of  solitary  horsemen,  gigs, 
and  the  mail-coach,  and  moulded  upon  such  limited  necessi- 
ties as  then  existed ;  but  in  America  the  hotels  and  the  rail- 
ways grew  together,  and  have  been  made  to  fit  into  each  oth- 
er. Large  hotels  are  of  positive  necessity ;  and,  were  they 
solely  confined  to  travelers,  would  deserve  the  praise  of  being, 


HOTEL  LIFE. 


81 


what  they  really  are,  the  finest,  most  convenient,  and  best  ad- 
ministered cstablishnicntB  in  the  world.  It  is  not  their  fault 
that  they  have,  in  the  course  of  time,  and  by  the  force  of  cir- 
cumstances, been  devoted  to  other  uses,  and  that  they  have 
become  the  permanent  homes  of  families,  instead  of  remaining 
the  temporary  residences  of  strangers. 

For  a  fixed  charge  of  two  dollars  and  a  half  a  day  (about 
ten  and  sixpence  English)  the  traveler  has  a  comfortable  bed- 
room, the  use  of  a  drawing-room,  dining-room,  reading-room, 
and  smoking-room,  and  the  full  enjoyment  of  a  liberal  tariff, 
or  bill  of  fare,  for  breakfast,  luncheon,  dinner,  tea,  and  supper. 
The  two  dollars  and  a  half  include  all  charges  for  servants, 
and  every  charge  wliatever  that  can  be  fairly  included  under 
the  head  of  board  and  lodging,  except  wine,  beer,  and  spirits. 
There  is  no  charge  for  wax-lights — that  fiaring  pretext  for 
extortion  in  England.  The  cookery  is  in  general  excellent. 
The  breakfast  is  bounteous,  and  at  the  leading  hotels  is  spread 
from  eight  o'clock  till  twelve,  between  which  hours  fish,  flof^h, 
and  fowl,  fresh  meat  and  salt  meat,  eggs,  omelets,  wheaten 
bread,  rye  bread,  corn  bread,  corn  cakes,  rice  cakes,  and  buck- 
wheat cakes  (the  last-mentioned  a  greater  delicacy  than  En- 
gland can  show),  are  liberally  distributed.  From  twelve 
o'clock  till  two  the  luncheon  is  spread  with  equal  profusion ; 
and  from  two  to  six  there  is  a  succession  of  dinners,  the  get- 
ting up  of  which,  at  the  St.  Nicholas,  the  Metropolitan,  or  the 
New  York,  would  do  credit  to  the  Reform  Club  and  its  ex- 
cellent chef  de  cuisine.  As  soon  as  dinner  is  over,  tea  com- 
mences, and  as  soon  as  tea  is  cleared  away  the  cloths  are  laid 
for  supper,  so  that  from  eight  in  the  morning  till  midnight 
there  is  one  continual  succession  of  feasts,  at  which  governors 
of  states,  members  of  Congress,  judges,  generals,  ex-presidents 
of  the  republic,  the  magnates  of  commerce  and  the  law,  and 
all  the  miscellaneous  and  less  distinguished  public,  male  and 
female,  sit  down.  Whether  the  traveler  do  or  do  not  par- 
take, it  is  the  same  to  the  landlord.  He  may  eat  once,  twice, . 
thrice,  or  all  day  long,  if  he  pleases.  Tlio  price  is  two  dollars 
and  a  half,  even  should  he  be  a  popular  celebrity — ^have  many 
friends — ^and  take  all  his  meals  abroad.     If  ladies  and  fami- 


Pi|i 


'-^1 


^^:. 


82 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


lle«  prefer  to  liave  apartments  of  their  own,  the  price  for  lodg- 
ing variuM  from  three  to  five  or  ten  dollars  a  day,  according  to 
the  extent  or  elegance  of  accommodation  required.  In  like 
manner,  the  board  of  each  individual,  supplied  in  a  private 
apartment,  is  raised  from  two  and  a  half  to  four  dollars  per 
diem.  The  consequence  is  that  very  few  people  board  in 
their  private  rooms,  and  that  nearly  all  breakfast,  dine,  and 
sup  in  public,  except  the  very  young  children,  for  whose  con- 
venience there  is  a  separate  table  tVhote. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  for  the  traveling  community  these 
hotels  are  very  comfortable,  very  luxurious,  very  cheap,  and 
very  lively.  In  consequence  of  the  great  difficulty  which  pri- 
vate families  experience  in  procuring  cooks  and  housemaids 
in  a  country  where  menial  service  is  considered  beneath  the 
dignity  of  a  native-bom  American,  where  service  is  called 
"  help,"  to  avoid  wounding  the  susceptibility  of  free  citizens, 
and  left  almost  exclusively  to  negroes  and  the  newly-imported 
Irish,  who  too  commonly,  more  especially  the  female  portion 
of  t]iom,  know  nothing  whatever  of  any  household  duties,  and 
whoso  Bkill  in  cookery  scarcely  extends  to  the  boiling  of  a 
potato,  the  mistresses  of  families  keeping  house  on  their  own 
account  lead  but  an  uncomfortable  life.  In  England  the 
nowly-marricd  couple  take  a  liouse,  furnish  it,  and  live  quietly 
at  home.  In  the  cities  of  America — for  the  rule  does  not  ap- 
ply to  the  rural  districts — they  too  commonly  take  apartments 
at  the  hotel,  and  live  in  public,  glad  to  take  £rd vantage  of  the 
ready  means  which  it  affords  of  escape  from  the  nuisances  at- 
tendant upon  inefficient,  incomplete,  and  insolent  service.  The 
young  wife  finds  herself  relieved  from  the  miseries  and  re- 
8pon^;ibilitics  of  housekeeping,  and  has  nothing  to  think  of  but 
dress,  visiting,  reading,  and  amusement.  Brides  who  begin 
married  life  in  hotels  often  continue  in  them  from  youth  to 
maturity,  without  possessing  the  inestimable  advantage  and 
privilege  of  any  more  secluded  home.  To  those  who  know 
nothing  of  domestic  affairs,  and  to  those  who  are  williiig  to 
attend  to  them,  but  can  not  procure  proper  "help"  in  their 
household,  the  hotel  system  is  equally  well  ad«^pted.  It  saves 
trouble,  annoyance,  and  expense ;  but  at  what  a  cost  of  the 


HOTEL  LIFE. 


33 


domestic  amenities  I  Perhaps  not  abo\v.  one  half  of  the  peo- 
ple who  daily  sit  down  to  dinner  in  these  superb  establish- 
ments are  travelers.  The  remainder  are  permanent  residentB 
— husbands,  wives,  and  children.  To  eat  in  public  now  and 
then  may  be  desirable ;  but  for  ladies  to  take  all  their  meaU 
everyday,  and  all  the  year  round,  in  the  full  glare  of  publicity ; 
to  be  always  full  dressed ;  to  associate  daily — almost  hourly 
— with  strangers  from  every  part  of  America  and  of  the  world ; 
to  be,  if  young  and  handsome,  the  cynosure  of  all  idle  and  va- 
grant eyes,  either  at  the  table  (Jthhte  or  in  the  public  dmwing- 
room — these  are  certainly  not  the  conditions  which  to  an  En- 
glishman's mind  are  conducive  to  the  true  happiness  and  charm 
of  wedded  life.  And  it  is  not  only  the  influence  of  this  state 
of  things  upon  the  husband  and  wife  to  which  an  Englishman 
objects,  but  its  influence  upon  the  young  children,  who  play 
about  the  corridors  and  halls  of  such  mansions,  and  become 
prematurely  old  for  want  of  fresh  air  and  exercise,  and  over- 
knowing  from  the  experiences  they  acquire  and  the  acquaint- 
ances they  contract.  Perhaps  "fast"  people  may  consider 
such  objections  to  savor  of  "  old  fogyism."  But  reasonable 
people  will  not.  The  system  is  peculiar  to  America,  and, 
therefore,  strikes  the  attention  more  forcibly  than  if  it  were 
common  to  the  civilized  world. 

It  is,  doubtless,  more  the  misfortune  than  the  fault  of 
American  families  that  they  live  so  much  in  this  style ;  for, 
without  good  servants  who  know  their  duty,  and  are  not  too 
supercilious  and  saucy  to  perform  it,  it  is  impossible  for  a 
lady,  without  shortening  her  life  and  making  herself  worse 
than  a  slave,  to  have  a  comfortable  and  happy  home,  or  to 
govern  it  with  pleasure  or  advantage  either  to  herself  or  her 
family.  Recently  the  New  York  and  Philadelphia  newspa- 
pers have  been  filled  with  the  details  of  two  scandalous  cases 
— one  ending  in  a  tragedy— of  which  a  New  York  and  a  Phil- 
adelphia hotel  were  the  scenes,  and  in  both  of  which  the  fair 
fame  of  ladies  was  sacrificed.  To  these  painful  exposures  it 
is  not  necessary  to  make  farther  allusion ;  but  they  are  so 
fresh  in  the  public  recollection  that  they  can  not  be  passed 
over,  even  in  this  cursory  glance  at  some  of  the  evils  attend- 

P,  2 


r'  ^ 


84 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


ant  upon  the  undao  publicity  of  fcmalo  life  in  such  monster 
liotels  as  I  hu''0  endeavored  to  describe. 

To  all  the  hotels  is  attached  an  establisbment  known  as  the 
"  bar,"  where  spirituous  liquors  are  retailed  under  a  nomen- 
clature that  puzzles  the  stranger,  and  takes  a  long  acquaint- 
anceship with  American  life  and  manners  to  become  familiar 
with.  Gin-sling,  brandy-smash,  whisky-skin,  streak  of  light- 
ning, cock-tail,  and  rum-salad,  are  but  a  few  of  the  names  of 
the  drinks  which  are  consumed  at  the  bar,  morning,  noon, 
and  night,  by  persons  who  in  a  similar  rank  of  life  in  En- 
gland would  no  more  think  of  going  into  a  gin-shop  than  of 
robbing  the  bank.  Fancy  a  gin -palace  under  the  roof  of,  and 
attached  to,  the  Reform  or  the  Carlton  C/lub,  and  free  not  only 
to  the  members,  but  to  the  world  without,  and  both  classes 
largely  availing  themselves  of  it  to  drink  ^nd  smoke,  both  by 
day  and  by  night,  and  you  will  be  able  to  form  some  concep- 
tion of  the  "  bar"  of  an  American  hotel,  and  of  the  class  of 
people  who  frequent  it.  But  can  such  a  system  conduce  to 
any  virtuous  development  of  young  men  in  this  republic? 
The  question  admits  of  muuy  replies;  and  without  presum- 
ing, on  so  short  an  acquaintance  with  the  country,  to  speak 
with  authority,  I  leave  it  for  the  consideration  of  those  who 
desire  that  America  should  be  as  wise  and  happy  in  the  pri- 
vate relations  of  her  citizens  as  she  is  free  and  independent  in 
her  relations  to  the  great  comity  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER  V. 


AMEBIGAN  FIREMEN. 


:,> 


New  York,  Dec.  21,  1857. 
Whatever  the  Americans  are  proud  of — ^whatever  they 
consider  to  be  peculiarly  good,  useful,  brilliant,  or  character- 
istic of  themselves  or  their  climate,  they  designate,  half  in  jest, 
though  scarcely  half  in  earnest,  as  an  "institution."  Thus 
the  memory  of  General  Washington — or  "  Saint"  Washington, 
as  he  might  be  called,  considering  the  homage  paid  to  him — 
is  an  institution ;  the  Falls  of  Niagara  are  an  institution ;  the 


AMERICAN  FIREMEN. 


Plymouth  Rock,  on  which  the  Pilgrim  Fathers  first  Mi.  iioi, 
i»  nn  iiiHtitution,  an  much  so  as  the  Blarney  Stone  in  Irehi.id, 
to  which  an  eloquent  Irish  orator,  at  a  public  dinner,  com- 
pared it,  amid  great  applause,  by  affirming  that  the  Plymouth 
llock  was  the  "  Blarney  Stone  of  New  England.'*  **  Sweet 
potatoes*'  are  an  institution,  and  pumpkin  (or  punkin)  pie  is 
an  institution  ;  canvas-back  ducks  are  an  institution  ;  squash 
is  an  institution ;  Bunker's  Hill  is  an  institution ;  and  the 
firemen  of  New  York  a  great  institution. 

The  fire  system,  in  nearly  all  the  principal  cities  of  the 
Union  is  a  peculiarity  of  American  life.  Nothing  like  it  ex- 
ists in  any  European  community.  As  yet  the  city  of  Boston 
appears  to  be  the  only  one  that  has  had  the  sense  and  the 
courage  to  organize  the  fire-brigades  on  a  healthier  plan,  and 
bring  them  under  the  direct  guidance  and  control  of  the  mu- 
nicipality. Every  where  else  the  firemen  are  a  power  in  the 
state,  wielding  considerable  political  influence,  and  uncon- 
trolled by  any  authority  but  such  as  they  elect  by  their  own 
free  votes.  They  are  formidable  by  their  numbers,  dangerous 
by  their  organization,  and  in  many  cities  are  principally  com- 
posed of  young  men  at  the  most  reckless  and  excitable  age  of 
life,  who  glory  in  a  fire  as  soldiers  do  in  a  battle,  and  who  are 
quite  as  ready  to  fight  with  their  fellow-creatures  as  with  the 
fire  which  it  is  more  particularly  their  province  to  subdue. 
In  New  York,  Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  and  other  large  cities, 
the  fire  service  is  entirely  voluntary,  and  is  rendered  for  "  the 
love  of  the  thing,"  or  for  "  the  fun  of  the  thing,"  whichever  it 
may  bo.  The  motto  of  one  fire  company  at  New  York,  in- 
scribed on  their  banner,  is, 

"  Firemen  with  pleasure, 
Soldiers  nt  leisure ;" 

a  couplet  which  characterizes  the  whole  spirit  of  their  or- 
ganization. The  firemen  are  mostly  youths  engaged  during 
the  day  in  various  handicrafts  and  mechanical  trades,  with  a 
sprinkling  of  clerks  and  shopmen.  In  New  York  each  candi- 
date for  admission  into  the  force  must  be  balloted  for,  like  a 
member  of  the  London  clubs.  If  elected,  he  has  to  serve  for 
five  years,  during  which  he  is  exempt  from  juiy  and  militia 


I 

It 


ae 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


duty.  Tho  firemen  elect  their  own  suporiiUcndentfi  and  other 
otncen*,  by  ballot,  ns  they  were  thcmsclvcH  elected,  and  nro 
divided  into  engine  companies,  hook  and  ladder  companies, 
and  hose  companies.  The  engine  and  accessories  are  provided 
by  the  municipality ;  but  the  firemen  are  seldom  contented 
with  them  in  tho  useful  but  unadorned  state  in  which  they 
receive  them,  but  lavish  upon  them  un  amoiint  of  ornament, 
in  the  shape  of  painted  panels,  silver  plutin<r,  und  other  fmery, 
more  than  sufficient  to  prove  their  liberality,  and  tho  pride 
they  take  in  their  business.  The  service  is  entirely  voluntary 
and  gratuitous,  having  no  advantages  to  recommend  it  but 
those  of  exemption  from  the  jury  and  the  militia,  and  leads 
those  who  devote  themselves  to  it  not  only  into  great  hardship 
and  imminent  dar.ger,  but  into  an  amount  of  expenditure 
which  is  not  the  least  surprising  part  of  tho  ''  institution." 
The  men— or  "boys,"  as  they  are  more  commonly  called — 
not  only  buy  their  own  costume  and  accoutrements,  and  spend 
large  sums  in  the  ornamentation  of  their  favorite  engines,  or 
hydrants,  as  already  mentioned,  but  in  the  furnishing  of  their 
bunk-rooms  and  parlors  at  the  fire-stations.  The  bunk  or 
sleeping  rooms,  in  which  the  unmarried,  and  sometimes  tho 
married,  members  pass  the  night,  to  be  ready  for  duty  on  the 
first  alarm  of  fire,  are  plainly  and  comfortably  furnished,  but 
the  parlors  are  fitted  up  with  a  degree  of  luxury  equal  to  that 
of  the  public  rooms  of  the  most  celebrated  hotels.  At  one  of 
the  central  stations,  which  I  visited  in  company  with  an  editor 
of  a  New  York  journal,  the  walls  were  hung  with  portraits  of 
Washington,  Franklin,  JefFerson,  Mason,  and  other  founders 
of  the  republic ;  the  floor  was  covered  with  velvet-pile  carpet- 
ing, a  noble  chandelier  hung  from  the  centre,  the  crimson  cur- 
tains were  rich  and  heavy,  while  the  sideboard  was  spread 
with  silver  claret-jugs  and  pieces  of  plate,  presented  by  citi- 
zens whose  houses  and  property  had  been  preserved  from  fire 
by  the  exertions  of  the  brigade ;  or  by  the  fire-companies  of 
other  cities,  in  testimony  of  their  admiration  for  some  par- 
ticular act  of  gallantry  or  heroism  which  tho  newspapers  had 
recorded. 
,    If  the  firemen  be  an  "  institution,"  fire  itself  is  an  institu- 


it. 


AMERICAN   FIRKMEN. 


87 


tion  in  mo§t  American  cities.     Whether  it  be  care1e§iineffl,  or 
the  hubitiml  overheating  of  ull  )ioui«CH,  public  and  private,  by 
the  system  of  Hues,  fiirnuces,  anil  stoves  which  anj  in  ordinary 
use,  or  the  combustibility  of  the  matcrialH  of  which  houses  are 
built,  or  a  combination  of  idl  these  causes,  and  perhaps  many 
others,  it  is  certain  that  fires  are  much  more  common  in 
America  than  they  ai-o  in  Europe.     Into  whatever  city  tlie 
traveler  goes,  he  sees  the  traces  of  recent  conflagration ;  some- 
times whole  blocks,  or  often  whole  streets  or  parishes  leveled 
to  the  ground,  or  presenting  nothing  but  bare  and  blackened 
walls.     So  constant  appears  to  bo  the  danger,  that  the  streets 
of  New  York,  Hoston,  and  other  cities  are  traversed  ni  all  di- 
rections by  telegraphic  wires,  which  centre  invariably  at  the 
City  Hall,  and  convey  instantaneously  to  head-quarters,  day 
or  night,  the  slightest  alarm  of  fire.     By  an  ingenious  system, 
due  to  the  scientitic  sagacity  of  Mr.  Ivioses  G.  Farmer  and  Dr. 
W.  F.  Channing,  of  liostci,  and  brought  to  its  present  perfec- 
tion in  1852,  the  alarm  is  rapidly  transmitted  from  any  part 
of  the  circumference  to  the  centre,  and  from  the  centre  back 
again,  through  an  almost  countless  number  of  radii,  to  the 
whole  circumference  of  the  city.     In  a  lecture  delivered  l)e- 
forc  the  Smithsonian  Institution  at  Washington,  Dr.  Chan- 
ning  explained  the  fire  organization  of  a  city  by  stating  that 
*'  from  the  central  station  at  the  City  Ilall  go  out  wires  over 
the  house-tops,  visiting  every  part  of  the  city  and  returning 
again.     These  are  the  signal  circuits  by  which  the  existence 
of  a  fire  is  signalized  from  any  part  of  the  city  to  the  centre. 
Strung  on  these  circuits,  or  connected  with  them,  arc  numer- 
ous signal  boxes  or  signalizing  points,  of  which  there  may  bo 
one  at  the  comer  of  every  square.     These  are  cast-iron,  cot- 
tage-shaped boxes,  attached  to  the  sides  of  the  houses,  com- 
municating, by  means  of  wires  inclosed  in  a  wrought-iron  gas- 
pipe,  with  the  signal  circuit  overhead.     On  the  door  of  each 
signal  box  the  number  of  the  fire  district,  and  also  the  num- 
ber of  the  box  or  station  itself  in  its  district,  are  marked,  and 
the  place  in  the  neighborhood  where  the  key-holder  may  be 
found  is  also  prominently  notified.     On  opening  the  door  of 
the  signal  box  a  crank  is  seen.    When  this  is  turned  it  com- 


•r,f 


88 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


' 


municates  to  the  centre  the  number  of  the  fire  district  and  of 
the  box,  and  nothing  ehe.  Repeated  turns  give  a  repetition 
of  the  same  signal.  By  this  means  any  child  or  ignorant  per- 
son who  can  turn  a  coffee  mill  can  signalize  an  alarm  from 
his  own  neighborhood  with  unerring  certainty.  Connected 
with  the  signal  circuits  at  the  central  office,  where  they  all 
converge,  are  a  little  alarm-bell  and  a  register,  which  notifies 
and  records  the  alarm  received  from  the  signal  box.  The 
galvanic  battery  which  supplies  all  the  signal  circuits  is  also 
placed  at  the  central  station.  If  a  fire  occurs  near  signal  box 
or  station  5,  in  district  8,  and  the  crank  of  that  box  is  turned, 
the  watchman  or  operator  at  the  central  station  will  immedi- 
ately be  notified  by  the  little  bell,  and  will  read  at  once  on 
his  register  the  telegraphic  characters  which  signify  district  3, 
station  5.  Having  traced  the  alarm  of  a  fire  from  a  signal 
box  into  the  central  station,  the  next  question  is,  how  shall 
the  alarm  be  given  from  that  centre  to  the  public  ?  From 
the  central  station  proceed  also  several  circuits  of  wires,  call- 
ed alarm  circuits,  which  go  to  the  various  fire-bells  through- 
out the  city,  and  which  are  connected  with  striking  machines 
similar  in  character  to  the  striking  machinery  of  a  clock,  but 
liberated  by  telegraph.  The  operator  at  the  central  station 
is  enabled,  by  the  mere  touch  of  his  finger  upon  a  key,  to 
throw  all  the  striking  machines  into  simultaneous  action,  and 
thus  give  instantaneous  public  alarm.*' 

It  is  certainly  a  triumph  of  science  to  be  enabled  by  means 
of  one  instrument  to  ring  simultaneously  all  the  alarm-bells 
in  every  steeple  and  tower  of  a  great  and  populous  city,  and 
call  out  the  fire  companies  with  their  engines,  ladders,  ropes, 
hooks,  and  hose,  and  designate  to  each  of  them  at  the  same 
moment  the  particular  spot  in  the  city  which  is  threatened 
with  devastation,  although  the  very  completeness  of  the  ar- 
rangement, and  the  necessities  which  called  it  into  existence, 
are  sufficient  to  prove  that  there  is  something  wrong  either  in 
the  house-building  or  the  house-heating  of  America,  or  in  the 
absence  of  the  careful  attention  which  in  other  parts  of  the 
world  renders  fire  less  frequent. 

The  assertion  is  frequently  made  by  Americans,  whenever 


FROM  NEW  YORK  TO  BOSTON. 

the  subject  of  fires  is  mentioned,  that  many  fires  are  purposely 
caused  by  the  "  boys"  for  the  sake  of  a  frolic,  or  a  run,  or  in  a 
spirit  of  rivalry  between  two  or  more  companies,  who  desire 
to  compete  with  each  other  in  the  performance  of  deeds  of 
daring,  or  who  long,  as  they  sometimes  do,  for  a  street  fight 
to  wipe  out  some  ancient  grudge  which  had  its  origin  at  a 
fire.  The  statement  is  repeated  on  American  authority,  and 
must  go  for  what  it  is  worth — as  something  which  may  be 
false,  but  which  is  believed  by  many  estimable  citizens  of  the 
republic  to  be  true.  In  Philadelphia  and  Baltimore  alarms 
of  fire  are  regularly  expected  on  Saturday  nights,  when  the 
"boys"  have  received  their  week's  wages,  and  are  ripe  for 
mischief.  In  ]3oston,  where  the  firemen  are  paid  by  the  city, 
and  where  they  are  entirely  under  the  control  of  the  munici- 
pality, fires  are  less  frequent  than  elsewhere,  and  fights  among 
the  firemen  are  entirely  unknown.  New  York  and  the  other 
great  American  cities  must  ultimately  resort  to  the  same  sys- 
tem, or  continue  to  pay  the  penalty  not  only  of  constant  loss 
of  life  and  property,  but  of  the  preponderance  of  a  very  un- 
ruly and  dangerous  class  in  the  lower  strata  of  their  popu- 
lation. •  ■ 

The  firemen  throughout  the  Union  have  a  newspaper  of 
their  own,  devoted  exclusively  to  their  interests,  and  to  the 
promulgation  of  facts  and  opinions  relating  to  the  fraternity. 


CHAPTER  VI.  . 

FBOM  NEW  YORK  TO  BOSTON. 

October,  1867. 
In  fine  weather — or  perhaps  in  any  weather — the  pleasant- 
cst  mode  of  traveling  between  New  York  and  Boston  is  by 
steam-boat  through  the  Long  Island  Sound  to  Fall  River,  a 
distance  of  upward  of  200  miles,  and  from  Fall  River  by  rail- 
way to  Boston,  54  miks.  Railway  traveling  in  the  United 
States  is  not  agreeable.  Such  easy  luxury  as  that  of  a  first- 
class  carriage  in  England  or  in  France  is  not  to  be  obtained 
for  love  or  money.    In  a  hind  of  social  equality,  every  one 


40 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


except  the  negro  travels  in  the  first  class.  The  servant  and 
the  mistress,  the  navvie,  the  peddler,  the  farmer,  the  merchant, 
the  general,  the  lawyer,  the  senator,  the  judge,  and  the  gov- 
ernor of  the  state,  with  their  wives,  their  sons,  and  their 
daughters,  and  even  the  Irish  bogtrotter,  who,  before  he  left 
Ireland,  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  taking  the  chair  from 
the  viceroy,  or  the  pulpit  from  the  Roman  Catholic  Arch- 
bishop of  Dublin,  as  of  traveling  in  a  first-class  carriage,  but 
who,  in  this  countr}',  handles  more  money  in  a  day  than  he 
saw  in  the  old  country  in  a  month,  and  who  waxes  saucy  in 
proportion  to  his  cash,  all  mingle  together  in  one  long  car,  by 
no  means  so  comfortable  as  a  second-class  carriage  on  any  of 
the  principal  lines  in  Great  Britain. 

These  cars  accommodate  each  from  sixty  to  eighty  travelers, 
and  in  the  winter  are  warmed  by  stoves  burning  anthracite 
coal,  which  stoves  and  which  coal  are  among  the  greatest  af- 
flictions and  miseries  of  the  country.  Every  place  to  which 
an  unfortunate  stranger  can  resort  is  overheated  by  these 
abominable  contrivances.  They  burn  out  all  the  elasticity 
and  moisture  of  the  atmosphere ;  they  quicken  the  pulse,  in- 
flame the  skin,  and  parch  the  tongue.  Hotels,  private  houses, 
railway  cars,  all  are  alike  rendered  intolerable  by  their  heat, 
until,  oppressed  by  the  sulphuiy  and  palpitating  hotness,  de- 
pressed in  spirit,  weakened  in  body,  and  well-nigh  suffocated, 
the  stranger  accustomed  to  the  wholesome  fresh  air  rushes  out 
to  get  a  gulp  of  it,  and  takes  cold  by  the  suddenness  of  the 
transition.  Perhaps  the  universal  use  of  these  stoves  may  ac- 
count for  the  sallowness  of  so  many  of  the  American  people, 
which  contrasts  so  remarkably  with  the  ruddy  freshness  of  the 
English.  An  equal  freshness  is  seldom  to  be  seen  here  except 
in  young  children  and  among  new-comers.  He  who  would 
avoid  this. nuisance,  as  well  as  such  other  discomforts  of  the 
rail  as  the  want  of  all  support  for  the  back  or  the  head  in 
long  journeys,  rendering  sleep  an  almost  unattainable  bless- 
ing, should  travel  by  the  steam-boats  whenever  he  has  a 
chance.  Against  the  steam-boats  the  only  objection  is  that 
they  sometimes  blow  up  or  take  fire.  But  these  are  rare  oc- 
currences ;  and  no  man  of  ordinary  nerve  and  courage  who  is 


FROM  NEW  YORK  TO  BOSTON. 


41 


compelled  to  travel  need  alarm  himself  unduly  by  the  antici- 
pation  of  such  catastrophes.  As  every  man  IksUovch  all  men 
to  be  mortal  except  himself^  so  most  travclurH  believe  that 
every  boat  may  explode,  or  bum,  or  be  wrecked  except  the 
particular  boat  by  which  they  happen  to  take  their  passage. 
\Vere  it  not  so,  who  would  travel,  unless  from  the  direst  ne- 
cessity 1  The  steamers  that  ply  in  the  Long  Island  Sound 
are,  as  regards  all  their  interior  arrangements,  as  himdsome 
and  luxurious  as  the  railway  cars  are  the  rovcrfic.  For  a 
slight  extra  charge,  only  amounting  to  one  dollar  in  the  dis- 
tance between  New  York  and  Boston,  a  private  state-room  or 
cabin  can  be  obtained,  fitted  up  with  every  ccynfort  and  con- 
venience. Why  similar  privacy  and  comfort  are  not  obto*n- 
able  on  the  railways  it  is  difficult  to  say.  Though  huge,  un- 
wieldly,  and  ungraceful  when  seen  from  the  outnide,  with  their 
machinery  working  on  the  top,  the  river  and  'long-shore  steam- 
boats, when  examined  from  within,  arc  worthy  of  the  name  of 
floating  palaces.  The  saloons,  three  deep,  one  above  the 
other,  and  affording  a  promenade  the  whole  length  of  the  ves- 
sel, arc  large  and  aiiy,  richly  carpeted,  and  decorated  with  vel- 
vet and  gold,  with  easy-chairs,  fauteuils,  and  sofas,  and  all 
appliances  either  for  waking  or  for  sleeping.  Homo  of  them 
make  up  from  600  to  800  berths,  in  addition  to  the  private 
state-rooms.  The  tables  are  bountifully  spread  for  meals,  and 
the  negro  stewards  and  waiters,  who  are  the  best  servants 
procurable  in  the  United  States,  and  far  superior  to  the  Irish, 
their  only  compe liters  in  this  line  of  business,  are  attentive  and 
obligiiig. 

Expecting  to  dine  on  board,  I  took  no  dinner  in  New  York, 
but  ''  uud  at  six  o'clock  that  tea  only  was  provided.  The  tea, 
however,  had  all  the  bounteousness  of  a  dinner — fish,  fles?., 
fowl,  pastry,  and  dessert;  every  thing  except  beer  or  wine. 
Seeing  this,  I  asked  the  jet-black  negro  who  waited  on  me  to 
bring  me  some  lager  beer. 

"  Can't  do  it,  sar,"  said  he,  with  a  grin ;  "  it's  against  the 
rules,  sar." 

"What  rules?" 

"  The  rules  of  the  ship.    Ours  is  a  temperance  boat,  sar.'* 


42 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


"Then  why  don't  you  advertise  it  as  a  temperance  boat, 
ihat  people  may  take  their  choice  ?" 

"All  the  same,  ear,"  said  the  negro;  "'zackly  the  same. 
Can't  let  you  have  beer  or  wine  at  the  table ;  but  you  go  on, 
sar,  to  the  barber's  shop,  and  thar  you'll  get  every  thing  you 
want,  sar — whisky,  rum,  brandy,  wine — all  sorts  thar,  sar." 

It  was  even  so.  In  each  steamer  is  a  barber's  shop,  hand- 
somely fitted  up,  and  where  the  traveler  can  have  his  hair  cut, 
or  cleaned,  or  washed,  or  where  he  may  be  shaved  by  a  black 
barber,  and  where,  whether  the  boat  be  a  temperance  boat,  or 
a  boat  for  the  moderate  enjoyment  and  use  of  the  liquid  bless- 
ings of  life,  he  can  obtain  gin-slings,  and  cock-tails,  and  whis- 
ky-skins, and  all  the  multifarious  spirituous  drinks  of  America. 
The  only  interference  with  his  personal  liberty  in  the  matter 
is  that  he  must  take  his  drink  in  the  barber's  sanctum,  and 
can  not  have  it  served  to  him  in  any  other  part  of  the  ship. 
I  mention  this  fact  for  the  edification  of  Exeter  Hall,  and  of 
those  who  would  introduce  the  Maine  Liquor  Law,  or  some- 
thing like  it,  into  England,  as  one  out  of  many  proofs  which 
might  be  adduced  to  show  how  great  a  "  sham"  is  the  opera- 
tion of  that  prohibitive  and  tyrannical  measure  in  the  country 
which  gave  it  birth. 

Boston,  the  capital  of  the  small  but  ancient,  wealthy,  and 
intelligent  commonwealth  of  Massachusetts,  the  model  and 
most  conservative  state  of  the  Union,  is  one  of  the  most  pic- 
turesque as  well  as  important  cities  of  America.  The  original 
Indian  name  of  the  small  peninsula  on  which  it  is  built  was 
"  Shawmut,"  or  the  "  Living  Fountains."  From  the  three 
hills  on  which  it  stands,  which  have  been  now  partly  leveled, 
it  obtained  from  the  early  settlers  the  name  of  Tremont,  or 
Trimountain — a  name  still  given  to  it  by  poets  and  orators 
when  they  strive  to  be  particularly  eloquent.  In  compliment 
to  the  Rev.  John  Cotton,  the  Vicar  of  Boston,  in  Lincolnshire, 
who  emigrated  here  for  conscience'  sake,  with  the  other  hardy 
and  honest  Englishmen,  who  have  obtained  the  honorable 
name  of  the  "  Pilgrim  Fathers,"  it  received  from  the  early 
settlers  the  name  of  Boston.  Since  that  day  it  has  grown  tc 
be  a  city  of  180,000  inhabitants,  and  the  nucleus  of  quite  a 


FROM  NEW  YORK  TO  BOSTON. 


48 


conp:enc8  of  other  cities  almost  as  important  as  itself.  These 
stretch  around  it  on  every  side,  but  are  divided  from  it  either 
by  the  arms  of  the  sea  or  by  the  pleasant  waters  of  the  Charles 
Kivcr.  Charlestown,  Cambridge,  Koxbury,  Brighton,  Brook- 
line,  and  Chelsea  are  so  closely  united  to  Boston  as  virtually 
to  form  part  of  it  on  the  map,  although  most  of  them  are  in- 
dependent cities,  governed  by  their  own  magistrates  and  munic- 
ipalities. The  total  population  of  Boston  and  the  outlying 
cities,  towns,  and  villages  is  upward  of  400,000.  Boston  city 
is  divided  into  South  Boston,  East  Boston,  and  Boston  Proper. 
The  old  city,  or  Boston  Proper,  stands  on  a  peninsula,  sur- 
rounded by  salt  water  on  three  sides,  and  on  the  fourth  by  the 
brackish  water  of  the  Charles  River,  which,  at  its  confluence 
with  the  sea,  spreads  out  like  a  small  lake.  It  is  connected 
by  a  narrow  strip  of  land,  not  more  than  two  feet  above  high 
water,  and  called  the  Neck,  with  the  suburb  or  city  of  Rox- 
bury.  Bunker's  or  Bunker  Hill — so  named,  according  to 
some,  from  Bunker's  Hill  in  Lincolnshire,  and  according  to 
others  from  Bunker's  Hill  in  the  town  of  Nottingham,  is  not 
in  Boston,  but  in  the  adjoining  city  of  Charlestown,  with  which 
it  has  communication  by  four  bridges — two  for  ordinary  traf- 
fic, and  two  for  the  railways. 

The  750  acres  of  ground  on  which  old  Boston  is  built  was 
occupied,  in  the  year  1635,  by  the  Rev.  John  Blackstone,  the 
only  inhabitant,  as  well  as  the  sole  owner  of  the  soil.  Mr. 
Blackstone  sold  tlie  land  for  £30  English  money.  There  are 
now  many  sites  in  the  city  worth  as  much  per  square  yard. 
Boston  is  very  picturesque,  very  clean,  and  very  English.  It 
has  not  the  French  and  foreign  aspect  of  New  York,  but  is 
altogether  quieter  and  more  sedate,  and  justifies,  by  its  out- 
ward appearance,  the  character  it  has  acquired  of  being  the 
Athens  of  the  New  World,  the  mart  of  literature,  and  the 
most  intellectual  city  in  America.  Not  that  this  high  char- 
acter is  willingly  conceded  to  it  by  people  who  live  beyond  the 
limits  of  Charleston,  Roxbury,  and  Cambridge ;  for  the  New 
Yorkers,  the  Philadelphians,  and  many  others,  so  far  from 
taking  the  Bostonians  at  the  Bostonian  estimate  of  themselves, 
hold  their  high  pretensions  in  scorn,  and  speak  contemptuous- 


'■;      !^ 


if 


44 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY   IN  AMEKICA. 


■I,i 


(j :  i 


\y  of  them  as  utter  "Yankees."  Tlicre  can,  however,  be  no 
doubt,  all  jealousy  and  rivalries  apart,  that  the  society  of  Bos- 
ton is  highly  cultivated  and  refined,  and  that,  if  it  do  not  ex- 
cel, it  is  not  excelled  by  that  of  any  city  in  the  Union. 

The  great  charm  of  the  scenery  of  Boston  is  its  Common  or 
Park — a  piece  of  ground  covering  about  forty  acres,  and  open 
on  one  side  to  the  Charles  Kiver,  over  the  estuary  of  which, 
and  the  heights  beyond,  it  commands  from  every  part  a  series 
of  extensive  and  beautiful  views.  The  other  sides  of  the 
Common  are  occupied  by  the  residences  of  the  principal  inhab- 
itants— noble  stone  buildings  most  of  them — and  representing 
a  rental  ranging  from  £300  to  £800  or  £1000  per  annum. 
House-rent  is  exceedingly  high  in  all  the  great  American 
cities,  and  is  at  least  double  that  of  houses  of  the  correspond- 
ing style  in  London.  In  all  distant  views  the  State  House 
dominates  the  city  as  the  highest  and  most  conspicuous  object, 
around  which  every  thing  else  is  concentrated.  The  view 
from  the  top  of  this  edifice  well  repays  the  labor  of  the  ascent, 
and  affords  an  unrivaled  panorama  of  the  busy,  populous,  and 
thriving  home  which  the  descendants  of  the  ancient  English 
Puritans  have  made  for  themselves  in  the  New  World.  In 
the  Common,  surrounded  by  a  railing  to  protect  it  from  in- 
jury, stands  a  venerable  elm,  with  an  inscription  stating  that 
it  is  believed  to  have  been  planted  before  the  first  settlement 
of  Boston  as  a  colony,  and  that  it  began  to  exhibit  signs  of  old 
age  a  quarter  of  a  century  ago.  Its  boughs  are  inhabited  by 
a  colony  of  tame  gray  squirrels.  To  throw  nuts  to  these 
graceful  little  creatures,  and  watch  ticir  gambols,  is  one  of 
the  principal  amusements  of  the  nursemaids  and  children  of 
Boston,  as  well  as  of  many  older  and  wiser  persons.  There 
are  similar  colonics  in  the  other  elms  in  some  of  the  principal 
streets.  The  squirrels  are  general  favorites,  and  have  no  ene- 
mies except  among  the  cats,  which  occasionally  make  an  in- 
road upon  them  and  diminish  their  numbers,  to  the  great  dis- 
gust and  indignation  of  the  well-minded  population.  It  may 
be  mentioned  as  an  interesting  fact  in  natural  history  that  the 
elms  in  Boston  planted  by  the  English  settlers  from  slips  or 
seeds  brought  from  England  retain  their  leaves  much  later 


FROM  NEW   YORK  TO   BOSTON. 


46 


than  tho  native  American  elmB.  At  thin  advanced  pcriwl  of 
the  year  may  Iw  noticed,  amid  the  IcafleMS  or  the  brown  and 
yellow  trees  that  grace  the  Common,  seven  elms  of  most  lux- 
uriant green  foliage,  which  seem  not  to  have  lost  a  leaf,  or  to 
possess  a  leaf  in  tho  slightest  degree  discolored.  'Diese  arc 
the  Englii^h  elms,  sturdy  liritons,  flourishing  in  a  vigorous  old 
age,  while  their  Yankee  brethren,  seedy,  sapless,  and  wobc- 
gone,  look  as  sallow  as  if  they  too,  like  their  human  compa- 
triots, smoked  immoderately,  chewed  tobacco,  spat,  lived  in 
heated  rooms,  and,  in  their  ovcr-cagcnicss  to  get  rich,  did  in- 
justice to  their  physical  nature. 

The  principal  street  of  Boston  is  Washington.  Street,  a  long 
and  not  very  even  thoroughfare,  but  picturesque  and  English 
in  its  character,  and  containing  some  very  handsome  shops, 
llic  most  interesting,  if  not  the  most  prominent  of  them,  is 
the  "  book-store"  of  Messrs.  Ticknor  and  Fields — two  asso- 
ciates who  have  published  more  poetry,  and,  if  report  speak 
truly,  made  more  money  by  it  than  any  other  publishers  in 
America.  Their  store  is  tho  lounge  and  resort  of  all  the  lit- 
erary celebrities  of  Boston  and  Harvard  University.  Hero 
Longfellow,  poet,  scholar,  and  gentleman,  looks  in  to  have  a 
chat.  Here  Professor  Agassiz,  who  has  rendered  himself 
doubly  dear  to  Boston  by  refusing  to  leave  it  on  the  invita- 
tion of  Napoleon  III.,  and  tho  offer  of  a  largo  salary  in  Paris, 
shows  his  genial  and  benevolent  face,  more  contented  to  live 
humbly  in  a  land  of  liberty,  than  ostentatiously  and  luxurious- 
ly in  a  land  of  thraldom.  Hero  Oliver  W.  Holnies,  the  "  Au- 
tocrat of  the  Breakfast  Table,"  who  ought  to  be  weU  known 
in  England,  comes  to  give  or  receive  the  news  of  the  day. 
Here  tho  amiable  Prescott,  the  historian,  and  one  of  tho 
most  estimable  of  men — to  have  shaken  whose  hand  is  a  priv- 
ilege— sometimes  looks  in  at  the  door  with  a  face  like  a  ray 
of  sunshine.  Here  poets,  poetesses,  lecturers,  preachers,  pro- 
fessors, and  newspaper  editors  have  combined,  without  pre- 
meditation, to  establish  a  sort  of  Literary  Exchange,  where 
they  may  learn  what  new  books  are  forthcoming,  and  talk  to- 
gether upon  literature  and  criticism. 

Boston  is  the  great  metropolis  of  lecturers,  Unitarian  preach- 


46 


MKK  AND  LIBERTY  IN'  AMERICA. 


!■■  1 


n:.^ 


CM,  nn«l  poclj".  PcrlmpH  for  pocU  it  would  ha  better  to  »ay 
rliynicni  or  vcrsilicrj*,  nnd  I  make  the  correction  accordingly. 
The  rtncHt  churchcH  in  the  city— with  the  tallcxt  and  hand- 
ffomcHt  BpircM,  and  the  most  imposing  fronts  and  porticoes, 
Ixilong  to  thu  MnitarianH.  Lecturers  have  been  so  richly  en- 
dowed by  the  Ix)wel  bequest,  that  the  Bostonians,  over-belec- 
tured,  often  cxiMjricncc  a  feeling  of  nausea  at  the  very  sug- 
gestion of  a  lecture,  or  worse  still,  of  a  series  of  them ;  and 
i\A  for  poets  and  poetesses,  or,  as  I  should  say,  rhymers  and 
vcrsirtcrs,  both  male  and  female,  their  name  is  "  legion  upon 
legion."  In  walking  along  Wjishington  Street,  and  meeting  a 
gentlemanly-looking  person  with  a  decent  coat  and  a  clean 
Hhirt,  the  traveler  may  stifely  put  him  down  as  either  a  lec- 
turer, a  Unitarian  minister,  or  a  poet ;  possibly  the  man  may 
1x5,  Ccrbcr US-like,  all  three  at  once.  In  Boston  the  onus  lies 
upon  every  respectable  person  to  prove  that  he  has  not  written 
a  sonnet,  preached  a  sermon,  or  delivered  a  lecture  ;  and  few 
there  arc  above  the  station  of  the  lowest  kind  of  handicrafts- 
men who  could  lay  their  hands  upon  their  hearts  and  plead 
not  guilty  to  one  or  the  other  of  these  charges. 

Within  an  easy  ride  by  rail  from  Boston,  and  almost  near 
enough  to  form  a  suburb,  is  the  city  of  Cambridge,  celebrated 
as  the  seat  of  the  Harvard  University,  the  most  serviceable 
educational  institution  in  America.  Harvard  has  no  preten- 
sions to  rival  its  British  namesake  either  in  wealth  or  archi- 
tectural beauty,  and  is  but  a  modest  assemblage  of  unconnect- 
ed and  unattractive  looking  buildings.  But  it  has  turned  out 
some  of  the  best  men  in  America,  and  to  be  its  president  is 
ono  of  the  greatest  honors  to  which  a  citizen  of  Massachusetts 
can  aspire. 

It  is  not  any  portion  of  the  plan  of  this  book  to  record 
private  conversations  or  private  hospitalities.  If  it  were, 
much  might  be  said  of  Cambridge  and  Harvard,  and  of  the 
choice  spirits  whom  it  was  my  privilege  to  meet  on  my  short 
but  most  pleasant  visit  to  its  classic  purlieus.  Let  it  suffice 
to  say  that  in  my  remembrance  it  is  sacred  to  the  name  and 
to  the  companionship  of  such  men  as  Longfellow,  Agossiz, 
Lowell,  and  the  excellent  and  venerable  Josiah  Quincy,  long 


/  . 


TO  THE   FALLS  OF  NIAO.Ul^V. 


47 


the  president  of  the  University,  The  last-named  gentleman 
is  one  of  the  few  survivora  of  the  Briti.'^h  era.  Ho  was  horn 
a  Itritinh  sahjcct  before  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and 
still  survives  b  a  green  and  illustrious  old  age  to  shed  honor 
upon  American  liberty. 


ciiArrER  VII. 


TO  THE   FALLS    OF    NIAGARA. 


Nov.  3d,  18.17. 
It  was  a  beautiful  morning  when  I  took  the  train  from 
Boston  for  the  Falls  of  Niagara.  The  foliage  was  not  in  tho 
full  bloom  and  flush  of  that  autumnal  glory  which  makes  the 
month  of  October  so  lovely  in  America,  but  the  trees  were  far 
from  bare.  The  "  pride  of  India,"  the  alanthus,  and  the  elm, 
were  shorn  of  their  splendors,  and  were  all  but  leafless ;  but 
the  oaks,  and,  more  especially,  the  maples,  glittered  in  green, 
brown,  and  crimson  magnificence.  Nothing  can  surpass  the 
beauty  of  the  American  maples  at  this  season,  when  their 
leaves,  turned  to  a  blood-red  color  by  the  first  touch  of  tho 
whiter  frosts,  gleam,  fairest  of  the  fair,  amid  the  yellowing 
foliage  of  oaks  and  beeches,  the  bright  green  of  the  fir-trees, 
and  the  more  sombre  verdure  of  the  omnipresent  pine.  Tho 
sky  was  cloudless,  and  the  atmosphere  so  transparent  that  re- 
mote objects  were  brought  out  sharply  and  distinctly,  as  if 
close  to  the  eye.  To  the  mind  of  one  accustomed  to  the 
English  and  Scottish  landscape,  there  was  one  defect  in  the 
character  of  the  scenery,  and  that  was  the  absence  of  the  green 
grass,  earth's  most  beautiful  adornment  in  the  British  Isles, 
but  which  is  nowhere  to  be  seen  on  the  American  continent 
after  the  early  summer.  The  heat  of  July  parches  and  withers 
it,  and  in  autumn  and  winter  there  may  be  said  to  be  no  grass 
at  all — nothing  but  shriveled  herbage,  dry  as  stubble,  and  of 
the  same  color.  But  otherwise  the  landscape  was  as  fair  as 
poet  or  painter  could  desire,  and  the  delicious  blue  of  the  sky, 
and  the  hazy,  dreamy  stillness  of  the  Indian  summer,  made 
amends  even  for  the  absence  of  grass.     If  nature  had  not 


l^' 


^  'A 


m'i 


48 


LIFE   AND   LIBEKTY   IN   AMERICA. 


Hproad  ft  cari)ct,  she  had  certainly  hung  curtains  and  drapery 
of  regal  niagiuficcncc. 

Though  1  ardently  desired,  I  yet  dreaded  to  see  Niagara. 
Wordsworth  at  Yarrow  "  had  a  vision  of  his  own,"  and  was 
afraid  lest  he  should  undo  it  by  making  too  close  an  acquaint- 
anceship with  the  reality.  Such  were  my  feelings  on  draw- 
ing near  to  the  falls.  Unlike  a  celebrated  traveler  from  K.i- 
gland,  who  had,  very  shortly  Ixsfore  my  visit,  been  at  IJuftUlo — 
within  two  hours'  journey  by  railway,  yet  had  never  had  the 
curiosity,  or  found  the  time,  to  look  at  Niagara  face  to  face, 
1  was  positively  pervaded,  permeated,  steeped,  and  bathed  in  a 
longing  desire  to  behold  it ;  and  my  fears  but  arose  from  the 
excess  of  my  love.  The  scaso  u  was  not  the  most  favorable 
that  could  have  been  chosen ;  but,  as  one  who  might  never 
have  another  opportunity,  I  determined,  whatever  welcome  the 
weather  might  give  me — whether  amid  rain,  hail,  or  snow — 
to  gaze  upon  this  wonder  of  creation  while  yet  it  was  in  my 
power,  and  to  hear  that  great  voice  preaching  in  the  wilder- 
ness, and  singing  forever  and  ever  the  old  and  eternal  anthem, 
«  God  is  great !" 

Our  first  resting-place  of  importance  was  at  Albany,  the 
political  capital  of  the  State  of  New  York ;  our  next  at  Utica, 
ninety-five  miles  from  Albany,  where  it  wiis  originally  my  in- 
tention to  remain  for  two  or  three  days,  to  visit  the  Trenton 
Falls,  as  beautiful,  though  not  so  grand,  as  Niagara,  and  by 
many  traveler  preferred  to  the  more  stupendous  marvel  of 
the  two.  But,  on  learning  that  the  hotel,  the  only  house  in 
the  place,  had  long  been  closed  for  the  season,  I  held  on  my 
way.  A  sudden  fall  of  snow,  just  as  I  was  debating  the  ques- 
tion, was  the  lost  feather  that  broke  the  back  of  the  camel  of 
Doubt,  and  made  me  press  on  to  my  journey's  end.  From 
Utica — a  place  of  considerable  trade,  and  with  a  population 
of  upward  of  20,000 — our  train  started  to  Rome,  and  from 
Rome  to  Syracuse.  After  leaving  the  last-mentioned  place 
we  lost  sight  for  a  while  of  this  classical  nomenclature,. and 
traversed  a  region  where  Asiatic  names  were  in  greater  fa- 
vor— ^through  Canton  to  Pekin — leaving  Delhi  on  the  left. 
Thence  we  emerged  into  a  district  where  the  towns*  of  ancient 


TO  11I£  FALLS  OF  NL\OARA. 


49 


and  mcxlcni  Europe  and  Africa  pocmwl  to  Imvo  luul  ii  Btiff 
luittlo  to  iK'Tpotiiatc  tht'ir  iiaiin  :*  iu  the  New  World,  ami  whoro 
Attica,  AthoiiH,  Geneva,  I'alinym,  llaiiibiirjr,  Carthage,  Al- 
gier."*,  and  Glai«gow  were  Hcattcrcd  almnt  in  the  most  perplex- 
ing confusion.  On  cither  side  of  the  way  the  stumps  of  trees 
that  had  been  out  down  by  the  pitilesfl  axe  of  the  settlers,  and 
the  bhick,  charred,  ghost-like  stems  of  nionarchs  of  the  forest, 
which,  to  save  lalx)r,  they  had  attempted  to  destroy  by  firo, 
stood  in  the  ntterness  of  their  desolation.  Tlio  swamps  of 
dark  niossH'olorcd  water,  amid  which  they  rotted,  reflcctc<l 
their  melancholy  grandeur,  undisturbed  by  any  ripple  larger 
than  had  been  occasioned  by  a  falling  leaf  The  villages  and 
towns,  most  of  them  aspiring  to  bo  calKd  cities,  presented  in- 
variably the  same  rude,  imiinished  apjwarance.  Alinglcd 
amid  the  log  liuts,  the  cabbage-gardens,  and  the  squash-fields, 
were  churches,  chapels,  hotels,  stores,  banks,  mills,  and  print- 
ing-offices, most  of  them  incomplete  at  that  time,  but  doubt- 
less, ere  this,  in  full  activity  of  life  and  business.  Irish  and 
Germans  seemed  to  form  the  bulk  of  the  community.  "  Gast- 
haus,"  in  German  characters,  was  a  word  that  continually 
met  the  eye ;  -while  the  ubiquitous  pig,  and  such  names  over 
the  doors  as  O'Driscoll,  Murphy,  O'Brien,  and  O'Callaghan, 
unequivocally  affirmed  the  fact  that  the  Germans  had  not  en- 
tirely monopolized  the  farms,  the  fields,  the  shanties,  and  the 
stores  of  the  country.  At  Kome  an  old  man  got  into  our  car, 
who  did  us  the  favor  of  remaining  with  us  for  upward  of  fifty 
miles  of  our  journey.  He  plied  during  the  whole  of  the  time 
a  vigorous  trade  in  some  quack  medicine  of  his  own  concoc- 
tion, which  he  declared  to  be  "  good  for  fevers,  agues,  dys- 
pepsias, rheumatisms,  and  colics."  The  price  was  a  dollar  a 
bottle ;  and  among  the  sixty  persons  in  our  car  he  succeeded 
in  getting  no  less  than  nine  customers  by  dint  of  the  most 
impudent  and  vexatious  pertinacity  I  ever  Ijeheld.  But  trade 
of  every  kind  is  so  congenial  with  the  spirit  of  the  American 
people,  that  no  display  of  it  at  any  time,  and  under  any  cir- 
cumstances, seems  to  be  offensive,  but,  on  the  contrary,  to  be 
admired  as  something  "smart"  and  praiseworthy.  Having 
cxliausted  our  car  and  my  patience,  the  peddler  disappeared 

C 


I      ^.^-l 


m 


60 


:¥ 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY   IX   AMKKICA. 


into  the  cat  adjoining,  where  ho  no  doubt  carried  on  the  Hunie 
scricM  of  iwrformances.  We  wore  no  sooner  relieved  of  hin 
presence  than  u  book-hawker  made  hi.s  appearance,  and  left  n 
prospectus  with  every  traveler,  to  otudy  or  to  cast  upon  the 
floor,  and  after  a  suHicient  interval  returned  for  orders.  But 
the  book-tnule  did  not  ap[)car  to  be  very  prosperous,  and  he 
gathered  up  his  prospectunes  to  do  service  on  a  future  occa- 
sion. Then,  changing  his  literary  business  for  that  of  a  deal- 
er in  maple-candy,  jKjppermint-drops,  cakes,  and  apples,  ho  al- 
lowed us  no  cessation  from  importunity  until  we  arrived  at 
the  city  of  Rochester,  where  a  new  set  of  plagues  of  the  same 
class  took  possession  of  us,  and  accompanied  us  the  whole  way 
to  Niagara. 

At  Rochester — a  city  of  nearly  50,000  inhabitants,  seated 
upon  the  Genesee  River,  whoso,  magnificent  falls  give  it  an 
amount  of  water-power  which  any  city  in  the  world  might 
envy — the  New  York  Central  Railroad  crosses  the  stream 
upon  a  bridge  much  more  substantial  than  such  structures 
usually  are  in  the  United  States.  But  the  bridge  being  with- 
in a  hundred  yards  above  the  fall,  the  passengers  by  rail  can 
not  obtain  even  a  glimpse  of  the  cataract  as  they  pass.  On  a 
subsequent  occasion  I  btopped  a  night  at  Rochester  to  view 
the  fall.  When  this  part  of  the  world  was  a  wilderness  the 
Genesee  must  have  been  eminently  grand  and  beautiful.  Even 
now,  when  there  is  not  a  tree  upon  the  banks,  and  when  r 
succession  of  flour,  paper,  and  other  mills  has  monopolized  all 
the  available  space  on  both  banks,  and  filched  from  the  great 
fall  itself  a  hundred  little  streams,  that  discharge  their  power 
over  the  wheels  of  as  many  mills  and  factories,  the  rush  of  the 
mighty  river  is  a  no])le  sight.  Man  has  disfigured  the  banks, 
but  the  stream  itself  is  not  only  too  unmanageable  to  be 
brought  into  subjection  to  his  uses,  but  too  vast  in  its  loveli- 
ness and  grandeur  to  be  sensibly  impaired,  or  made  other  than 
beautiful,  whatever  he  may  do  to  it. 

It  had  been  dark  for  two  hours  before  we  reached  Niagara 
City,  sometimes  called  "  The  City  of  the  Falls ;"  and  when 
the  train  stopped  I  distinctly  heard  the  dull,  heavy  roar  of 
earth's  most  stupendous  cataract.     All  the  great  hotels  were 


TO  THE   FALLS  OF  NIAGARA. 


n 


closed  for  tlic  8oa«on.  The  Cataract  I  louse,  and  the  Intcma- 
tiunal,  un  the  Amcricnn  nide,  ami  the  (Jlifton  liouw»,  on  the 
Canadian  nhoro,  were  alike  deserted  and  scalecl  against  the 
visitor.  No  place  remained  available  for  a  nightly  lo<lging 
but  a  third,  or,  I  might  nay,  a  fifth-rate  hotel,  considering  the 
f»tyle  of  the  accommodation  and  the  cookery,  and  thither  I 
betook  myself  and  engaged  a  licd.  1  had  no  sooner  made  all 
my  arrangements  for  the  night  than  I  sallied  out  to  take  a 
glimpse  of  the  moonlight  glory  of  Niagara.  I  had  some  ditfi- 
culty  in  finding  my  way.  The  guides  had  all  departed  weeks 
previously,  and  there  was  not  even  a  stray  inliabitant  in  the 
wide,  muddy,  unfinished  streets  of  Niagara  City.  A  few  pigs 
still  prowled  about  in  the  miry  ways,  a  few  German  Gasthause 
were  still  open,  but  there  were  no  other  sounds  or  sights  of 
life  in  all  the  melancholy  place.  The  International  Hotel,  a 
huge  block,  about  three  times  as  lai^c  as  the  Reform  Club- 
had  all  its  shutters  up;  and  the  shops  and  stores  of  the  In- 
dian dealers  in  furs,  moccasins,  and  stuffed  birds  were  closed. 
At  last,  in  my  perplexity,  I  was  constrained  to  enter  a  Ger- 
man beer-house  to  ask  my  way  to  the  falls.  The  honest  Ger- 
man to  whom  I  put  the  question  stared  at  mo  with  genuine 
astonishment.  He  seemed  to  think  that  I  had  either  lost  my 
8enP<"^  or  diat  I  had  never  possessed  any. 

Do  you  want  to  cross  to  the  other  side?"  ho  asked,  in 
lulorably  good  English ;  "because,  if  you  do,  it  is  !ate  for  tho 
ferry,  and  I  advise  you  to  go  to  the  Suspension  Bridge." 

"  How  far  is  itt"  said  I. 

"  Two  miles,"  he  replied. 

"  But  I  only  want  to  take  a  look  at  the  falls,"  I  rejoined. 

"  To-night  r' 

"  Yes,  to-night ;  why  not  ?'* 

"To-night !  But  why  nnt  wait  till  daylight?  But  I  beg 
your  pardon ;  you  raust  surely  be  an  Englishman  ?  Nobody 
else  would  be  absurd  enough  to  want  to  see  the  falls  at  such 
a  time,  and  risk  his  neck  in  the  attempt.  The  ferryman  lives 
on  the  Canadian  side,  and  is  not  likely  to  come  across  for  you, 
even  if  you  can  make  him  hear,  which  is  doubtful." 

I  thought  so  too,  considering  the  noise  which  Niagara  made, 


52 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


and  which  I  could  hear  as  the  boss  to  the  shrill  treble  of  the 
German's  speech;  but  he  kindly  directed  me  to  the  ferry- 
house  with  a  shrug  of  pity,  and  the  parting  consolation  that, 
if  I  failed  to  get  across  that  night,  I  could  see  the  falls  in  the 
morning,  which,  in  his  opinion,  would  be  quite  soon  enough  for 
any  rational  being. 

The  ferry-house  was  as  deserted  as  the  hotels.  Its  door 
Yiras  open,  but  the  interior  was  almost  pitch  dark ;  and  after 
groping  about  for  some  minutes,  reluctant  to  return  without 
a  sight  of  the  falls,  I  discovered  that  the  ferry-house  was  on 
the  top  of  the  high  bank  (about  two  hundred  feet  from  the 
level  of  the  stream),  and  that  passengers  were  let  down  by 
ropes  in  a  car  upon  a  sloping  rail.  Dreading  to  tumble,  down 
the  incline,  and  meeting  Avith  no  living  creature  to  appeal  to 
for  aid  or  information,  I  made  my  way  back  to  the  "  Claren- 
don"— the  cheapest  and  most  uncomfortable  of  all  American 
hotels ;  got  more  than  ankle-deep  in  mire ;  met  several  pigs 
and  one  passenger ;  and,  for  that  evening,  left  the  falls  unvis- 
ited.  But  I  fell  asleep  with  their  mighty  music  ringing  in 
ray  ears,  and  next  morning  was  more  than  repaid  for  my  dis- 
appointments by  the  sight  of  Niagara  in  all  its  glory. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 

NIAGARA. 

No  description  that  I  had  read  of  Niagara — whether  writ- 
ten by  poet,  romance-writer,  geologist,  or  mere  tourist  and 
traveler — conveyed  to  my  mind  any  adequate  idea  of  the  real- 
ity. I  had  formed  a  Niagara  in  my  mind,  but  it  was  another 
and  a  veiy  different  Niagara  from  that  which  my  senses  dis- 
closed to  me — immensely  higher,  more  noisy  and  more  con- 
fused, and  lacking  the  majestic  regularity,  order,  and  calm 
though  stupendous  power  of  the  actual  torrent  which  my  eyes 
beheld.  I  was  prepared  to  be  astonished  at  its  grandeur  and 
magnificence ;  but  my  feelings  in  gazing  upon  it,  day  after  day 
and  evening  after  evening,  were  not  so  much  those  of  aston- 
ishment as  of  an  overpowering  sense  of  law,  mingled  with  a  dc- 


// 


NIAOiUlA. 


58 


llcious  pleasure,  that  filled  my  whole  being,  and  made  my  brain 
dizzy  with  delight.  That  I  may  not  bo  accused  of  an  attempt 
at  fine  writing  in  my  description  of  this  wondrous  waterfall,  I 
shall  exhaust  all  my  adjectives  at  once.  Having  poured  out 
my  praises  in  one  gush,  I  shall  relapse  into  the  soberest  de- 
scription I  can  command  of  what  I  saw,  and  endeavor  to  pre- 
sent an  unimpassioned  narrative  of  its  effects  upon  my  mind. 
Any  enthusiastic  traveler,  deeply  impressed  with  the  grace,  the 
loveliness,  and  the  sublimity  of  such  a  scene,  will  speedily 
reach  the  limit  of  his  vocabulary.  To  himself,  or,  better  still, 
to  some  congenial  companion  of  either  sex,  he  can  but  repeat 
the  old  and  well-worn  epithets,  grand,  beautiful,  stupendous, 
awful,  majestic,  and  magnificent.  This  done,  he  must,  if  he 
still  feel,  resort  to  silence,  as  more  demonstrative  than  speech. 
There  are  no  more  adjectives  which  he  can  use  ;  but  he  feels 
that  there  is  an  infinitude  of  uninvcnted  words  in  the  depths 
of  his  consciousness  which,  if  he  could  but  drag  them  into 
being,  would  serve  to  explain  to  others  how  keenly  the  spirit- 
ual beauty  of  Nature  had  wrought  itself  into  the  spiritual 
nature  of  man,  and  into  every  sense  of  his  physical  and  ma- 
terial existence.  But,  as  these  words  can  not  bo  uttered, 
silence  is  the  best  relief  and  the  only  alternative.  An  English 
lady  emphatically  declared  Niagara  to  be  "  sweetly  pretty  !'* 
and  an  American  lady  declared  it  to  be  "  handsome  I"  Pos- 
sibly the  fair  speakers  exhausted  in  these  epithets  the  whole 
wealth  of  their  admiration  ;  and  yet,  faulty  as  their  language 
was,  they  might  have  as  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  beauty  of  the 
cataract,  and  been  as  deeply  impressed  with  its  majesty,  as 
travelers  who  made  use  of  a  more  appropriate  phraseology. 
There  arc  minds  which  feel  so  acutely  the  overpowering  love- 
liness of  nature,  and  the  imbecility  of  any  language  to  express 
their  sympathies  and  emotions,  even  the  richest  that  ever  grew 
and  germinated  into  logic  or  poetry,  that  their  enforced  dumb- 
ness becomes  ultimately  so  painful  as  to  disturb  the  fine  bal- 
ances of  Reason,  and  put  the  harp  of  Imagination  out  of  tune. 
The  well-known  lines  of  Byron  express  this  instinctive  emo- 
tion, when,  speaking  of  another  fall,  less  glorious  than  Niag- 
ara, he  says, 


54 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


I 


^    /  -    "        *  "One  can't  gaze  a  minute  *l:i  ^^.^^r 

Without  an  awful  wish  to  plunge  within  it."  ..  .;    ■< 

Niagara  has  this  fascination  about  it  in  a  very  high  degree. 
The  beautiful  boa  constrictor,  glaring  with  its  bright  ruivl 
deadly  eyes  at  a  rabbit  or  a  bird,  has  a  similar  power ;  and 
the  poor  little  quadruped  or  biped,  fascinated,  bewildered,  un- 
done, and  wrought  into  a  phrensy  by  the  overwhelming  gla- 
mour of  the  snake,  rushes  deliriously  into  perdition.  Thus 
Niagara  bewilders  the  senses  of  the  too  passionate  admirers 
of  its  beauty.  Many  are  the  tragical  stories  which  are  re- 
counted of  the  fair  girls,  the  young  brides,  and  the  poetic  souls 
who  have  thrown  themselves  into  the  torrent  for  the  speech- 
less love  they  liore  it,  and  floated  into  death  on  its  terrific  but 
beautiful  bosom.  "       - 

Before  shifting  my  quarters  from  the  desolate  hostelry  of 
the  Clarendon  at  the  City  of  the  Falls,  and  repairing  to  the 
excellent  accommodation  of  the  Montcagle  House,  two  miles 
distant,  near  the  Suspension  Bridge,  I  sallied  out  at  dawn  of 
day  to  the  ferry,  and  was  rowed  across  the  Niagara  River, 
about  half  a  mile  below  the  falls.  From  this  point,  amid  the 
comparative  quiet  of  the  waters,  the  first  glimpse  of  Niagara 
conveyed  a  feeling  that  partook  of  disappointment.  I  had  ex- 
pected the  falls  to  be  much  higher ;  and  if  the  water  had 
poured  from  a  precipice  a  thousand  feet  above  me,  I  should 
not,  perhaps,  have  considered  that  the  guide-book  makers  and 
the  tourists  had  led  me  to  expect  too  much.  The  eye  was 
unfamiliar  with  the  distance  and  with  the  grandeur  of  the  sur- 
rounding objects ;  and,  as  the  result  of  my  experience,  I  ad- 
vise the  traveler  not  to  take  his  first  view  of  Niagara  in  this 
manner.  The  majesty  is  too  far  off  to  be  appreciated.  There 
is  no  measurement  within  reach  by  which  the  size  can  be 
tested ;  and  the  noblest  waterfall  in  the  world  suggests  a  weir 
— no  doubt  above  the  average  size  of  weirs,  but  a  weir  never- 
theless. The  eye  too  often  makes  fools  of  our  other  senses, 
until  it  is  taught  to  know  its  own  littleness  and  imperfection, 
and  to  be  humble  accordingly.  In  the  summer  season  a  little 
steam-boat,  appropriately  named  the  Maid  of  tJie  Mist,  runs  up 
into  the  very  spray  of  the  cataract.     From  its  deck  a  magnifi- 


'/ 


NIAGARA. 


55 


cent  spectacle  is  doubtless  to  l)e  obtained  ;  but  at  the  time  of 
niy  visit  this  vessel  had  long  ceased  ita  cxcurttinnf*,  and  was 
safely  moored  for  the  winter  at "  liiddio  StuirM."  There  wore 
no  tourists,  and  even  the  guides  had  taken  their  departure. 
No  lingering  remnant  of  that  troublesome  confraternity  lay  in 
wait  for  a  stray  traveler  like  myself,  to  tiro  ItiM  patience,  dis- 
encumber him  of  his  loose  cash,  and  mar  the  whole  effect  of 
the  scenery  by  his  parrot-like  repetition  of  the  old  story,  from 
whicU  all  soul,  freshness,  and  meaning  had  departed.  Thus  I 
had  Niagara  all  to  myself.  It  was  my  own  dominion  ;  and  I 
ruled  over  it  unadvised,  untroubled,  and  undirected.  I  dis- 
covered its  beauties  gi*adually  as  best  I  could,  and  made  my 
way  from  place  to  place  wWh  as  much  of  the  true  spirit  of  dis- 
covery and  adventure  latent  and  stirred  within  mo  as  moved 
the  first  white  man  who  ever  gazed  upon  its  marvels ;  and, 
instead  of  narrating  how  and  in  what  way  I  saw  them,  let  me, 
for  the  benefit  of  any  future  travelers  who  may  read  these 
lines,  explain  in  what  sequences  of  grandeur  and  beauty  they 
should  explore  the  stupendous  scenery  of  the  river,  the  islands, 
and  the  falls,  so  as  to  reach  the  climax  where  the  climax  should 
be  naturally  expected,  and  to  go  on,  from  good  to  better,  and 
from  better  to  best,  in  one  grand  and  Imrmonious  crescendo, 
and  thus  extract  from  it  a  music  of  the  mind  sufHcient  to 
make  even  the  sublimest  harmonics  of  Uccthovcn  appear  tamo 
and  commonplace. 

Proceeding  first  to  the  narrow  and  apparently  frail  bridge 
which  connects  the  main  land  of  the  village,  or  "  City,"  for- 
merly called  Manchester,  with  Bath  Island,  and  thence  with 
Goat  Island — lovely  enough  to  deserve  a  more  beautiful  name 
— the  mind  of  the  traveler  will  be  impressed  with  a  spectacle 
which  to  me,  unprepared  for  it,  seemed  as  grand  as  Niagam 
itself.  Here  is  to  be  obtained  the  first  glimpse  of  the  rapids 
ere  the  whole  overflow  of  the  great  lakes — Superior,  Michi- 
gan, Huron,  and  Erie,  covering  a  superficies  of  no  less  than 
150,000  square  miles — a  space  large  enough  to  contain  En- 
gland, Scotland,  and  Ireland,  with  room  to  spare— discharge 
themselves  over  the  precipice  into  the  lower  level  of  Lake  On- 
tario.    In  a  distance  of  tlirec  quarters  of  a  niilo  tho  Niagara 


56 


LIFE  AND  LIBEIITT  IN  AMERICA. 


J.J' « 

•■■■■« 


Wl 


River  ^llops  down  an  incline  of  fifty-one  feet.  Such  a  bub- 
bling, boiling,  frothing,  foaming,  raging,  and  roaring  as  occur 
ill  that  magnificent  panorama  it  was  never  before  my  good 
fortune  to  see  or  hear.  Were  there  nothing  but  the  sight  of 
these  rapids  to  repay  the  traveler  for  his  pains,  it  would  be 
worth  all  the  time  and  cost  of  the  voyage  across  the  Atlantic. 
It  was  like  looking  up  a  mountain  of  furious  water  to  stand 
upon  the  bridge  and  gaze  toward  the  torrent.  I  will  not  call 
it  angry,  though  that  is  the  epithet  which  first  suggests  itself. 
Anger  is  something  sharp  and  short,  but  this  eternal  thunder 
is  the  voice  of  a  willing  obedience  to  unalterable  law.  There 
is  no  caprici  or  rage  about  it ;  nothing  but  the  triumphant 
song  of  gravitation,  that  law  of  laws,  which  maintains  the 
earth  in  perpetual  harmony  with  heaven.  On  the  sids  of 
the  "City"  were  several  mills  for  flour,  corn;  and  paper, 
which  had  borrowed  an  exterior  thread  from  the  mighty  web 
of  waters  to  help  in  performing  the  operations  of  human  in- 
dustry. But  these  scarcely  marred  the  eflect  of  the  scene, 
and  were  to  some  extent  useful  in  affording  a.  contrast  of  the 
littleness  of  man  with  the  ineffable  greatness  of  Nature.  The 
builders  of  the  bridge,  taking  advantage  of  the  havoc  made  by 
the  waters  in  days  gone  by — perhaps  five  hundred  thousand 
years  ago-— supported  it  partially  on  a  great  rock  lifting  its 
head  a  few  feet  above  the  foam ;  standing  at  this  point,  I 
counted  the  islets  scattered  on  either  side,  and  stretching 
downward  to  the  very  brink  of  the  fall.  Besides  Goat  Island, 
about  a  mile  in  circumference,  which  separates  the  American 
from  the  Canadian  fall,  I  made  out  pincteen  isles  and  islets ; 
some  no  larger  than  a  dining-table,  others  twenty  or  a  hund- 
red times  as  large,  and  several  of  them  supporting  but  a  sin- 
gle tree,  and  others  two  or  three  trees,  blooming  and  flourish- 
ing amid  the  war  of  waters,  and  suggesting  to  the  unpracticed 
eye  a  fear  that  every  moment  would  be  the  last  both  of  them 
and  their  vegetation. 

There  is  a  toll  of  twenty-five  cents  for  passing  over  this 
bridge  to  Goat  Island ;  but  the  toll  once  paid  frees  the  trav- 
eler for  a  year.  It  is  calculated  that  forty  thousand  persons 
pass  annually,  jdelding  a  handsome  revenue  to  Mr.  Porter 


ni 


NIAGARA. 


67 


the  propoietor  of  the  isknd.  The  father  or  grandfather  of 
this  gentleman,  a  8ur\'eyor,  ia  said  to  have  procured  Goat  Isl- 
and from  the  State  of  New  York  in  part  payment  of  his  bill 
for  surveying  the  rapids  and  their  neighborhood.  The  In- 
dian Emporium,  purporting  to  be  kept  by  the  descendants  of 
the  famous  "  Black  Hawk,"  was  still  open  on  the  occasion  of 
my  visit ;  and  the  fans,  the  moccasins,  the  purses,  and  all  the 
little  knick-knacks  which  the  Indians  manufacture  of  mooso 
skins,  beads,  and  birch  bark,  were  spread  out  for  sale.  Hav- 
ing paid  tribute  here,  I  passed  on  to  the  wilderness.  Though 
Goat  Island  is  laid  out  into  carriage-drives  and  by-paths,  it 
exists  otherwise  in  a  state  of  nature.  The  trees  are  unpruned 
forest-trees,  though  marked  occasionally  by  the  busy  knives 
of  the  ubiquitous  Joneses  and  Smiths,  who,  though  transplant- 
ed to  new  soil,  are  as  deeply  imbued  with  the  traditional  fail- 
ing of  their  British  ancestors  for  carving  or  scrawling  their 
inillustrious  name"  '^n  trees  and  public  monuments  as  their 
kindred  in  the  "  old  country."  In  this  lovely  spot  the  under- 
growth of  fern  and  brushwood  is  wild  and  luxuriant  in  the 
extreme.  The  beauty  and  variety  of  the  island  surpass,  I 
should  think,  that  of  any  island  in  the  world ;  although,  when 
contemplating  the  turbulence  around,  and  the  debris  of  past 
convulsions  which  strew  the  run  of  the  river  above  and  be- 
low, it  is  difficult  to  avoid  a  feeling  that  ere  long  Goat  Island 
will  be  entirely  swept  away,  or  scattered  into  fragments  at  the 
foot  of  the  falls. 

To  the  left,  down  a  little  by-path,  there  is  a  small  cataract, 
perhaps  about  ten  feet  in  width,  separated  by  huge  boulder 
stones  from  the  main  current,  which,  if  it  existed  in  Great 
Britain  or  in  any  other  part  of  Europe,  would  attract  admir- 
ing crowds  from  all  quarters  to  behold  it,  but  which  hero 
dwindles  into  comparative  insignificance  amid  the  mightier 
marvels  that  surround  it.  Lodore  among  the  English  lakes, 
and  Foyers  in  Inverness-shire,  beautiful  and  even  sublime  as 
they  may  be,  are  but  as  ribbons  to  this.  And  this  itself  is 
but  as  a  ribbon  compared  with  Niagara. 

The  next  point  is  the  American  Fall,  roaring  down  into 
the  abyss,  one  hundred  and  sixty  feet  below,  In  one  immense 

C2 


tt 


Mi 


68 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY    IN  AMERICA. 


5  l-f. 


S- 


ahcet  of  slaty-grccn  water.  Beautiful  exceedingly!  Vetii 
Napoli e poi  moi-if  say  the  Italians;  but  to  see  this  fall  is  to 
reach  a  higher  climax :  and — if  Death  be  agreeable — to  have 
a  greater  motive  for  confessing  that  Life  has  nothing  grander 
to  show.  The  traveler  can  approach  to  the  very  brink  of  the 
fall,  and,  if  he  pleases,  dabble  his  feet  in  it  v/ithout  danger ; 
but  let  him  wade  two  or  three  feet  only,  and  he  is  gone — 
down  !  down  !  like  a  speck,  into  Death  and  Eternity !  Look- 
ing over  the  avalanche  of  waters,  where  they  roll  smoothly 
and  irresistibly  as  Fate,  I  beheld  a  couple  of  hawks  or  other 
birds  of  prey  hovering  half  way  down,  fishing  for  the  dead  or 
stupefied  fish  that  are  hurled  through  the  boiling  spray.  Far- 
ther down  the  Niagara  stream — ^white  as  cream  at  the  foot 
of  the  precipice,  but  half  a  mile  below  as  tranquil  apparently 
us  if  nothing  had  happened — is  seen,  at  a  distance  of  two 
miles,  the  noble  Suspension  Bridge.  Over  its  airy  and  seem- 
ingly perilous  fabric  passes  the  railway  that  connects  the  New 
York  Central  Kail  way,  by  the  Great  Western  Railway  of 
Canada,  with  Michigan,  Wisconsin,  Minnesota,  and  the  "  Far 
West." 

And  now  for  the  culminating  point — at  Prospect  Tower, 
forty-five  feet  high,  and  built  on  the  very  edge  of  Goat  Island 
between  the  two  falls.  From  the  top  of  this  edifice,  amid  tho 
"  hell  of  waters,"  is  to  be  obtained  the  most  magnificent  view 
of  the  whole  scenery  of  Niagara,  above  and  below,  and  down 
the  arrowy  deeps  of  the  ever-boiling  caldron.  ':  ^«w 

The  Great  Canadian  or  Horseshoe  Fall  is  in  reality  Ni- 
agara itseli.  The  American  Fall,  stupendous  as  it  is,  must 
be  considered  no  more  than  an  oflfshoot  from  the  main  cata- 
ract. "  Oh,  that  Great  Britain  and  the  United  States  would 
go  to  war!"  said  an  enthusiastic  American;  "and  that  the 
United  States  might  gain  the  day !  We  would  stipulate  for 
the  annexation  of  the  Great  Horseshoe  Fall  as  a  sine  qua  non 
of  peace,  and  after  that  we  would  be  friends  forever !"  And 
no  wonder  that  the  Americans  so  love  it,  for  the  Horseshoe 
Fall  is  alike  the  greatest  marvel  and  the  principal  beauty  of 
the  New  World.  Here,  at  all  events,  man  and  his  works  are 
impotent  to  mar  pr  diminish  the  magnificence  of  nature.    No 


NIAGARA. 


59 


tvhccls  of  millM  or  facioricfi  cnn  bo  net  in  motion  bj  ft  cataract 
like  this.  It  would  danh  into  inHtnnt  ruin  the  proudest  p3rr- 
amid,  palace,  t«fmplc,  or  manufactory  that  imperial  roan  ever 
erected  since  the  world  bo^m.  lie  who  would  utilize  such  a 
flood  must  be  afl  cautious  as  a  homocopathist.  To  use  more 
than  an  infinitesimal  i)Oi'tion  of  its  exul)erant  strengtl.  would  bo 
to  court  and  to  meet  annihilation.  The  mass  of  water  pourH 
over  the  rocks  in  one  lucent  and  unbroken  depth  of  upward  of 
twenty  feet ;  for  although  no  magician  and  no  plummet  has  ever 
sounded  the  dread  profundity,  even  within  a  mile  of  the  final 
leap,  a  condemned  lake  steamer,  the  Detroit,  drawing  eighteen 
feet  of  water,  was  carried  over  the  falls  as  lightly  as  a  cork. 
She  never  touched  the  rocks  with  her  keel  until  she  was  pre- 
cipitated, still  shapely  and  beautiful,  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
below,  and  then  down,  down,  no  one  knows,  or  ever  will  know, 
how  many  fathoms,  into  a  lower  deep  scooped  out  by  the  in- 
cessant action  of  the  falls  in  the  very  bowels  of  the  earth,  to 
reappear,  a  few  minutes  afterward,  a  chaotic  and  unconnected 
mass  of  beams,  spars,  and  floating  timber. 

J  3  a  long  time  before  the  finite  senses  of  any  human  be- 
ing can  grasp  the  full  glory  of  this  spectacle.  I  can  not  say 
that  I  ever  reached  a  satisfactory  comprehension  of  it.  I  only 
know  that  I  gazed  sorrowfully,  and  yet  glad,  and  that  I  un- 
derstood thoroughly  what  was  meant  by  the  ancient  phrase 
of  "  spell-bound ;"  that  I  knew  what  fascination,  witchcraft, 
and  glamour  were ;  and  that  I  made  full  allowances  for  the 
madness  of  any  poor,  weak,  excited  human  creature  who,  in  a 
moment  of  impulse  or  phrensy,  had  thrown  him  or  herself 
headlong  into  that  too  beautiful  and  too  entrancing  abyss. 

When  the  first  sensations  of  mingled  awe  and  delight  have 
been  somewhat  dulled  by  familiarity  with  the  monotonous 
majesty,  so  suggestive  of  infinite  power,  and  so  like  an  em- 
blem of  eternity — though  impossible  for  man's  art  to  picture 
It  under  such  a  symbol — the  eye  takes  pleasure  in  looking 
into  the  minutiae  of  the  flood.  The  deep  slaty-green  color  of 
the  river,  curdled  by  the  impetus  of  the  fall  into  masses  of 
exquisite  whiteness,  is  the  first  iKJCuliarity  that  excites  atten- 
tion.    Then  the  shapes  assumed  by  the  rushing  waters — 


00 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


Bl^i 


shapes  continually  varying  an  each  Rcpamtc  pulsation  of  the 
rapids  above  produceH  a  new  embodiment  in  the  descending 
stream— charm  the  eye  with  fresh  wonder.  Sometimes  an 
avalanche  of  water,  striking  on  a  partially  hidden  shelf  or  rock 
halfway  down  the  precipice,  makes  a  globular  and  mound-like 
surge  of  spray ;  and,  immediately  afterward,  a  similar  down- 
flow,  beating  on  the  very  same  point,  is  thrown  upward,  al- 
most to  the  level  of  the  Upper  Niagara,  in  one  long,  white, 
and  perpendicular  column.  Gently,  yet  majestically,  it  reaches 
the  lower  level  by  its  own  independent  impetus,  without  be- 
ing beholden  to  the  gravity  of  the  sympathetic  stream  from 
which  it  has  been  so  rudely  dissevered.  And  then  the  rain- 
bows I  No  pen  can  do  justice  to  their  number  and  their 
loveliness.  No  simile  but  the  exquisite  one  of  Byron  at  the 
Italian  waterfall,  which,  compared  with  Niagara,  is  but  a  blade 
of  grass  to  some  oaken  monarch  of  the  woods,  can  adequately 
render  the  idea  of  any  spectator  -who  has  a  soul  for  natural 
beauty  as  ho  gazes  on  the  unparalleled  spectacle  of  such  an 
Iris  as  it  was  my  good  fortune  to  behold : 

"Lovo  watching  Madness  with  unalterable  mien !" 
But  the  sensations  of  one  man  are  not  the  sensations  of 
another.  To  one,  Niagara  breathes  turbulence  and  unrest; 
to  another  it  whispers  peace  and  hope.  To  one  it  speaks  of 
Eternity ;  to  another  merely  of  Time.  To  the  geologist  it 
opens  up  the  vista  of  millions  of  years ;  while  to  him  who 
knows  nothing  of,  or  cares  nothing  for,  the  marvels  of  tl.at 
science,  it  but  sings  in  the  wilderness  a  new  song  by  a  juvenile 
orator  only  six  thousand  years  old.  But  to  me,  if  I  can  epit- 
omize ray  feelings  in  four  words,  Niagara  spoke  joy,  peace, 
order,  and  eternity.  To  other  minds — dull,  prosaic,  and 
money-grubbing — Niagara  is  but  a  great  water-power  gone 
to  waste,  and  not  to  be  compared,  in  grandeur  of  conception 
or  execution,  to  the  Suspension  Bridge  that  crosses  the  river 
two  miles  below.  "Niagara  is  a  handsome  thing,"  said  a 
guest  at  the  Monteagle  House  to  his  neighbor ;  "  but  what  is 
it  to  the  bridge  ?  The  bridge !  why,  I  hold  that  to  be  the 
flnest  thing  in  all  God's  universe !"  It  was  no  engineer  who 
spake  thus,  but  a  man  from  a  dry-goods  store  in  Chicago, 


NIAGARA. 


61 


And  doubtless  a  veiy  worthy  man  too ;  thoup^h,  if  I  coald 
have  had  my  will  uf  him,  ho  never  ehould  luivo  had  a  vote  for 
Congrcsi^,  for  the  election  of  President,  or  even  for  the  nom- 
ination of  mayor  or  sheriff  of  Chicago.  I  would  have  inflicted 
summary  justice  upon  him,  and  in  the  very  tH:enc  and  moment 
of  hia  offense  deprive  him  forever  of  all  the  rights  of  citizen- 
ship. 

It  was  in  traversing  the  ferry  from  time  to  time,  and  cntcr- 
uig  into  conversation  with  the  ferryman  and  the  chance  pas- 
sengers in  his  boat,  that  I  learned  the  minute  and,  to  me,  in- 
teresting particulars  of  what  may  be  called  the  private  history 
and  romance  of  the  falls.  Many  were  the  sad  stories  told  of 
wobegone  and  desperate  creatures  who  had  chosen  the  terrific 
platform  of  the  Horseshoe  Fall,  or  of  the  Tower  at  Goat  Isl- 
and, as  the  scenes  of  their  violent  exit  from  a  world  which 
they  fancied  had  used  them  ungratefully ;  of  young  brides  who 
had  come  thither  to  rush  out  of  an  existence  where  they  had 
staked  all  on  the  chance  of  domestic  happiness  and  gained 
nothing  but  broken  hearts ;  of  young  men  and  of  old  men 
(but  never  of  old  women),  sick  of  the  world,  and  of  all  its 
pleasures  and  sorrows,  who  had  here  taken  the  fearful  leap 
from  Time  into  Eternity.  And  how  is  it,  O  learned  doctors 
of  lunacy  and  mania,  that  old  men  commit  suicide  so  fre- 
quently, and  old  women  so  seldom  ?  Many,  too,  were  the 
stories  told  of  Indians  and  others  who,  sailing  peaceably  and 
incautiously  in  their  canoes  or  boats  from  Erie  to  Chippewa, 
had  been  sucked  into  the  irresistible  current  and  precipitated 
in  the  sight  of  agonized  spectators  into  the  abyss  below.  The 
ferryman  did  not  personally  remember  the  catastrophe  of  the 
Caroline  steamer  cut  adrift  by  the  gallant  Colonel  (now  Sir 
Allan)  M'Nab  in  the  Canadian  rebellion,  and  sent  blazing  over 
the  falls ;  but  the  incident  will  long  be  told  in  Canadian  story 
and  the  annals  of  border  warfare.  The  ferryman  stated,  as 
the  result  of  his  experience  and  that  of  all  his  predecessors, 
that  the  dead  bodies  washed  ashore  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
ferry-house  were  always  found  in  a  state  of  nudity,  and  that 
he  never  heard  of  an  instance  in  which  a  corpse  had  been  re- 
covered with  the  slightest  shred  cr  vestige  of  a  ^jarment  ad- 


LIFE  AND  LIBEltTY   IN  AMEUICA. 


*'i,  'ill 


hcring  to  it.  One  tmgcdy  was  frcnli  in  his  recollection — that 
of  u  young  man  who,  nbout  Hvo  months  before  the  period  of 
my  visit,  had  called  for  nnd  drunk  off  at  a  draught  a  bottle 
of  Champagne  at  the  Clifton  Hotel,  then  engaged  and  paid 
for  a  carriage  to  drive  him  to  the  Table  Rock,  and,  in  night 
of  the  driver  and  of  other  people  who  never  Busix'cted  his  in- 
tent, had  proceeded  from  the  carriage  to  the  edge  of  the  Great 
Fall,  coolly  walked  into  deep  water,  and  been  washed  over 
the  precipice  before  even  a  voice  could  be  raised  to  express 
the  horror  of  the  by-standers.  His  body  was  not  found  until 
several  days  afterward,  perfectly  nude — Niagara  having,  ac- 
cording to  its  wont,  stripped  him  of  all  his  valuables  as  well 
as  of  his  life,  and  cast  him  upon  mother  earth  as  naked  as  he 
was  at  the  moment  he  came  into  it.  Many  also,  according  to 
the  ferryman,  were  the  waifs  and  strays  that  fell  to  his  share 
in  his  lonely  vocation — large  fish  drawn  into  the  current  and 
precipitated  over  the  falls,  quite  dead ;  aquatic  fowl,  skimming 
too  near  the  surface  of  the  rapids  in  search  of  prey,  and  caught 
by  the  descending  waters ;  and  logs  of  timber,  and  fragments 
of  canoes  and  other  small  craft,  which  he  collected  on  the 
shore  to  make  his  Christmas  fire,  and  help  to  keep  a  merry 
blaze  in  the  long  and  severe  winters  of  the  climate.  Niagara, 
according  to  the  testimony  of  all  who  dwell  near  it,  is  never 
more  beautiful  than  in  the  cold  midwinter,  when  no  tourists 
visit  it,  and  when  the  sides  of  the  chasm  are  corrugated  and 
adorned  with  pillars  aud  stalactites  of  silvery  frost,  and  when 
huge  blocks  of  ice  from  Lake  Erie,  weighing  hundreds  of  tons, 
are  hurled  down  the  rapids  and  over  the  falls  as  if  they  were 
of  no  greater  specific  gravity  than  feathers  or  human  bodie?, 
to  reappear  half  a  mile  lower  down  the  river,  shivered  into 
millions  of  fragments.  It  is  a  tradition  of  Niagara  that,  in 
1822  or  1823,  such  a  thick  wall  of  ice  was  formed  above 
Goat  Island  that  no  water  flowed  past  for  several  hours,  and 
that  in  the  interval  the  precipice  at  the  Horseshoe  Fall  was 
perfectly  bare  and  a  t",  A  picture  of  the  scene,  painted  at 
the  time,  is  still  in  Qxi.-tence.  What  a  pity  that  no  geologist 
or  poet  was  present  and  that  we  have  not  his  report  upon  the 
appearance  of  the  rocks  over  which  tumbles  the  eternal  cat- 


NUGARA. 


nmct,  that  never,  porhnps,  at  any  previous  period  unveiled  its 
flinty  bosom  to  the  gaze  of  the  petty  pigmies  who  wander  on 
its  shores,  and  call  themselves  the  lords  of  the  creation. 

But  a  small  portion  of  the  once  widely-projecting  Table 
Kock  is  now  in  existence,  the  remainder  having  suddenly 
given  way  four  or  five  years  ago.  It  seems  to  have  been  loos- 
ened in  some  of  its  internal  crevices  by  the  action  of  the  frost. 
A  horse  and  gig  had  been  standing  on  the  projection  less  than 
a  minute  before  the  rock  gave  way,  and  the  action  of  their  re- 
moval was  perhaps  the  immediate  cause  of  the  catastrophe. 
But  suiTicient  of  the  rock  still  remains  to  i.fford  a  footing 
whence  a  fine  view  of  the  whole  panorama  of  the  falls  is 
attainable. 

In  consequence  of  the  absence  of  guides,  and,  indeed,  of 
every  person  from  whom  I  could  obtain  informati  ;n,  I  did  not 
penetrate,  us  I  might  have  done,  behind  the  Horseshoe  Fall. 
The  mighty  cascade,  in  pouring  over  the  precipice  its  ninety 
millions  of  gallons  of  water  per  hour,  curves  outward,  and 
leaves  behind  it  a  chamber  which  daring  travelers,  determined 
to  see  every  thing,  make  it  a  point  to  visit.  The  feat  is  both 
painful  and  dangerous,  and  was  not  to  be  thought  of  by  a  sol- 
itary wayfarer  like  myself.  "  It  may  bo  supposed,"  says  a 
well-known  American  writer  who  achieved  it,  "  that  every 
person  who  has  been  dragged  through  the  column  of  water 
which  obstructs  the  entrance  to  the  cavern  behind  the  cata- 
ract has  a  pretty  correct  idea  of  the  pains  of  drowning.  It  i^^ 
difficult  enough  to  breathe,  but  with  a  little  self-control  and 
management  the  nostrils  may  be  guarded  from  the  watery 
particles  in  the  atmosphere,  and  then  an  impression  is  made 
upon  the  mind  by  the  extraordinary  pavilion  above  and 
around  which  never  loses  its  vividness.  The  natural  bend  of 
the  cataract  and  the  backward  shelve  of  the  precipice  form  an 
immense  area  like  the  interior  of  a  tent,  but  so  pervaded  by 
discharges  of  mist  and  spray  that  it  is  impossible  to  see  far 
inward.  Outward  the  light  struggles  brokenly  through  the 
crystal  wall  of  the  cataract,  and,  when  th»  Byn  shines  directly 
on  its  face,  it  is  a  scene  of  unimaginable  gibry.  The  footing 
is  rather  unsteadfast — a  small  shelf,  composed  of  loose  and 


64 


LIFE  AND  LIBEUTY  IN  AMERICA. 


Blippery  stoncti,  and  tho  abysn  boiling  below,  like — it  is  dif* 
ficult  to  find  a  comiNirison.  On  tho  whole,  the  undertaking 
is  rnthcr  pleosantcr  to  rcracmbcr  thun  to  uchieve."  .  '.i./«.. 
For  many  days  I  lingered  in  tho  purlieus  of  Niagara.  I 
oflon  walked  from  tho  Suspension  Bridge  along  tho  Canadian 
shore,  getting  at  every  turn  a  new  glimpse  of  loveliness ;  and 
on  other  occasions  have  sat  for  hours  on  Prospect  Tower,  with 
no  companions  but  a  favorite  book  and  the  eternal  music  of 
tho  falls.  In  storm,  in  shine,  in  moonlight,  and  in  mist — in 
rU  weathers  and  at  all  hours — I  have  feasted  on  the  beauty 
and  tranquillity  of  tho  scene ;  for,  as  soon  as  the  ear  becomes 
accustomed  to  the  roar  of  tho  waters,  they  descend  with  a 
lulling  and  soothing  sound.  And  when  I  was  compelled  to 
take  my  farewell  look  and  travel  to  new  regions,  I  repeated 
to  myself,  neither  for  tho  first  nor  the  last  time,  '*I  have 
li^  :d,  and  loved,  and  seen  Niagara." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

NEWPORT  AND    lUIODE  ISLAND. 

November  22,  1857. 
The  governors  of  tho  several  states  of  tho  Union  have 
some,  but  not  much  patronage.  That  their  salaries  are  far 
from  considerable  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  one  es- 
timable gentleman  of  my  acquaintance,  who  rules  over  a  ter- 
ritory as  large,  and  much  more  fertile  than  England,  enjoys 
the  not  very  munificent  allowance  of  $1500,  or  about  £300 
per  annum,  to  support  his  dignity ;  but  they  have  the  power 
of  life  and  death,  or,  rather,  the  privilege  to  commute  the 
punishment  of  death  into  imprisonment  for  life  or  for  a  term 
of  years ;  and  they  have  the  quasi  imperial  or  royal  right  to 
open  the  session  of  the  Legislature  by  speech  or  address,  and 
in  some  states,  but  not  in  all,  to  bring  the  session  to  a  prema- 
ture close.  In  the  early  times  of  the  republic,  the  governors 
of  the  states  thought  it  necessary  to  surround  themselves  with 
more  splendor  and  ceremonial.     Jolm  Hancock,  the  first  gov- 


i.r 


VI 


NEWPORT  AND  RUODE  ISLAND. 


65 


crnor  of  MfU^HOrliuflottA  nftcr  the  Involution,  ro<1o  nl)out  Bott- 
toii  in  a  gilt  coach  with  four  horses.     A  Ix>)rali!<t  l>a|)cr,  pub- 
lished in  New  York  n  year  prior  to  the  recognition  of  Amer- 
ican independence,  stated  of  Hancock  that  he  appeared  in  pub- 
lic **with  all  the  pageantry  (fan  Oriental  prince;  and  thus 
he  rode  in  an  elegant  carriage,  attended  by  four  servants, 
dres^sed  in  superb  liveries,  mounted  on  fine  horses  richly  ca- 
parisoned, and  escorted  by  fifty  horsemen  with  drawn  sabres, 
the  one  half  of  whom  preceded  and  the  other  half  followed  his 
carriage."     But  things  have  greatly  changed  since  that  day. 
The  present  Governor  of  Mfv^sachusctts,  a  very  eloquent  and 
able  man,  formerly  a  working  blacksmith,  who  was  lately 
Speaker  of  the  House  of  Rcprescntitivr «,  and  is  now  an  aspir- 
ant for  the  presidency,  walks  to  the  State  ^'^ousc  when  ho 
has  to  deliver  a  message  to  the  legislature,  a    '  boards  at  the 
public  hotel,  having  no  house  of  his  own  in  t^;o  capital  of  the 
commonwealth  of  which  he  is  the  chi.  T  mngistrate.     Hie  same 
simplicity  prevails  elsewhere.     Anicng  ^he  few  privileges  not 
already  mentioned  Avhich  the  governors  still  enjoy  in  New 
England  and  New  York,  and  perhaps  farther  south,  is  that 
of  appointing,  by  their  sole  authority,  a  day  of  general  thanks- 
giving or  of  humiliation.    Thanksgiving-day  is  genenilly  fixed 
in  November,  and  corresponds  in  its  festive  character  to  the 
celebration  of  Christmas  in  England.     ITie  people  shut  up 
their  stores  and  places  of  business ;  go  to  church,  chapel,  or 
conventicle  in  the  forenoon  or  afternoon,  or  both,  and  devote 
the  remainder  of  the  day  *  >  such  social  pleasure  and  jollity  as 
the  custom  of  the  place  m<vy  sanction.     The  dinner,  at  which 
the  2^^^ce  de  rigueur  is  roast  turkey,  is  the  great  event  of  the 
(lay.     As  roast  beef  and  plum  pudding  are  upon  Christmas- 
day  in  Old  England,  so  is  turkey  upon  Thanksgiving-day 
among  the  descendants  of  the  Puritans  in  New  England. 
Yesterday  was  Thanksgiving-day  at  Newport,  in  the  little 
but  prosperous  Commonwealth  of  Rhode  Island — the  small- 
est state  in  the  Union,  but  not  the  least  proud  or  wealthy. 
To  borrow  a  description  from  the  old  popular  ballad,  "Amer- 
ican Taxation,"    written    by   a   New   England   patriot   in 
1765: 


i|' 


a 


66  LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 

,;!  .  ,  " It  18  a  wealthy  people 

..^  Who  Hojourn  in  this  land ; 

Their  churches  all  with  steeples 
Most  delicately  stand ; 
'  Their  houses  like  the  gilly 

Arc  painted  white  and  gay : 
They  flourish  like  the  lily 
In  North  Americay. 

♦•On  turkeys,  fowls,  and  fishes 

Most  frequently  they  dine ; 
With  well-replenished  dishes 

Their  tables  always  shine.  ' 

They  crown  their  feasts  with  butter, 

They  eat,  and  rise  to  pray ; 
In  silks  their  ladies  flutter, 

In  North  Americay." 

Business,  and  not  pleasure,  brought  me  to  Rhoclo  Island, 
and  to  the  fashionable,  but  at  this  season  deserted  watering- 
place  of  Newport.  This  elegant  little  town,  or  "  city,"  is  of 
easy  access  from  New  York  or  Boston,  and  during  the  sum- 
mer months  is  crowded  with  visitors  from  all  parts  of  the 
Union ;  and  where — strange  anomaly  in  a  country  said  to  be 
so  strict  and  prudish — the  ladies  and  gentlemen  bathe  togeth- 
er, "  the  ladies,"  according  to  the  unimpeachable  authority  of 
Belle  Brittan,  "swimming  about  in  white  trowsers  and  red 
frocks — a  costume  gayer  than  the  chorus  of  an  Italian  opera," 
and  the  gentlemen,  according  to  another  authority,  in  a  cos- 
tume almost  as  decent,  though  by  no  means  so  picturesque. 
But  the  pleasure  hotels  were  all  shut  up,  and  no  place  open 
but  the  excellent  Aquidneck  House,  sufficiently  large  to  ac- 
commodate all,  and  fifty  times  more  than  all,  the  travelers 
who  at  that  season  were  likely  to  come  to  Newport  on  busi- 
ness. Newport  consists  principally  of  one  long  street  on  the 
shore  of  Narragansett  Bay,  and  has  an  air  of  greater  antiqui- 
ty than  is  common  among  the  towns  of  New  England.  It  is 
a  clean,  white,  quaint,  and  agreeable  place ;  but  during  the 
bathing  season  all  its  life  and  bustle  are  transferred  to  the 
other  side  of  the  narrow  island  on  which  the  town  is  built, 
and  to  the  western  shores  of  the  bay,  known  as  the  first,  sec- 
ond, and  third  beaches. 


NEWPORT  AND  RHODE  ISLAND. 


67 


Ki-^ 


Newport  is  a  place  of  historical  note,  having;  been  held  by 
the  British  forces  during  the  Kevolution,  and  almost  destroyed 
by  them  before  the  independence  of  the  United  States  was  of- 
ficially recognized.  They  arc  said  to  have  burned  480  houses, 
to  have  battered  down  the  light-house,  broken  up  the  wharves, 
used  the  churches  for  riding-schools,  and  cut  down  all  the 
fruit  and  ornamental  trees  before  taking  their  c\'^parture ;  and 
by  these,  and  the  other  more  legitimate  consequences  of  the 
warlike  occupation  of  the  place,  to  have  reduced  the  popula- 
tion from  12,000  to  4000.  But,  if  these  barbarities  were 
really  committed,  there  seem  to  remain  no  traces  of  animosity 
on  the  part  of  the  present  generation,  and  to  be  an  English- 
man is  a  passport  to  the  kind  offices  of  the  principal  inhabit- 
ants. An  attempt  to  release  Newport  from  British  occupa- 
tion was  made  in  1778,  under  the  combined  forces  of  Count 
L'Estaing,  the  French  admiral,  and  General  Sullivan,  the 
United  States  commander,  in  which  expedition  Governor 
Hancock,  of  Massachusetts,  and  General  Lafayette  command- 
ed divisions.  The  attempt  was  unsuccessful ;  and  was  com- 
memorated in  a  Loyalist  ballad  of  the  day,  to  the  air  of 
"Yankee  Doodle:" 

"'Begar!'  said  Monsieur,  *  one  grand  coup 
You  bientot  shall  behold,  sir:' 
This  was  believed  as  gospel  true, 
And  Jonathan  felt  bold,  sir. 

"  So  Yankee  Doodle  did  forget 

The  sound  of  British  drum,  sir — 
How  oft  it  made  him  quake  and  sweat, 
In  spite  of  Yankee  rum,  sir. 

*' Ho  took  his  wallet  on  his  back, 
His  rifle  on  his  shoulder. 
And  vowed  Rhode  Island  to  attack 
Before  he  was  much  older." 

There  is  an  old  building  at  Newport,  which  stands  in  the 
public  square  in  the  upper  town,  of  which  the  origin  and  the 
objects  have  excited  considerable  controversy.  By  some  it  is 
alleged  to  have  been  erected  by  the  Norsemen  in  their  pre- 
Columbite  discovery  of  America,  and  by  others  it  is  alleged 
to  be  merely  an  old  stone  mill.    But,  as  architectural  antit^ui- 


d 


68 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


H  ,1 


11 


S' 


ft    i^' 


\B\  .. 


Ml 

MAS 


\    '1 


:*/ 


ties  in  any  part  of  the  American  continent  north  of  Mexico 
are  utterly  unknown  or  non-existing,  it  m-iy  be  supposed  that 
strenuous  battle  is  done  on  behalf  of  the  theory  that  this  build- 
ing is  the  remnant  of  a  Norse  tower,  and  that  the  supporters 
of  the  mill  theory  and  of  its  modem  erection  receive  but  small 
toleration  at  the  hands  of  the  people  of  Newport.  Professor 
!Rafn,  under  date  of  1839,  aflfirms  that  the  building  was  erect- 
ed at  a  period  decidedly  not  later  than  the  12th  century,  as 
there  is  no  mistaking  the .  style,  which  is  that  of  the  round- 
arch  style ;  the  same  which  in  England  is  denominated  Sax- 
on, and  sometimes  Norman  architecture.  It  is  upon  a  legend 
brought  into  connection  with  this  ruin  that  Longfellow  has 
founded  his  poem  of  the  "  Skeleton  in  Armor." 

Among  the  pleasanter  memories  that  attach  to  Newport  is 
one  which  affirms  that  in  a  cottage  near  the  second  beach,  be- 
yond a  place  called  Purgatory,  Bishop  Berkeley  wrote  several 
of  the  works  which  have  handed  his  name  down  to  posterity. 

Though  I  had  no  opportunity  to  visit  Providence,  the  cap- 
ital, or  any  of  the  other  cities  of  Ehode  Island,  that  small  re- 
public has  so  interesting  a  histor}',  both  past  and  present,  as 
to  demand  not  only  a  record  from  the  pen,  but  the  sympa- 
thetic appreciation  of  e\Qi}  passing  stranger  who  has  any 
thing  to  say  about  the  '^cosas  Americanos."  It  is  distinguish- 
ed, in  the  first  place,  as  the  smallest  of  the  thirty-two  states 
of  the  Union,  being  only  about  forty-seven  miles  long  by  thir- 
ty-seven broad.  Though  for  the  most  part  continental,  it  de- 
rives its  name  from  the  little  island  in  Narragansett  Bay  on 
which  Newport  is  built,  and  contains  a  population  of  less  than 
150,000  souls.  Its  second  and  more  admirable  claim  to  dis- 
tinction arises  from  the  fact  that,  while  its  people  govern  them- 
selves at  somewhat  less  than  one  dollar  per  head  per  annum, 
they  pay  nearly  twice  as  much  for  public  education  as  for  all 
the  other  expenses  of  the  state.  The  governor's  salary  is 
$1000  (£200)  per  annum ;  the  civil,  military,  and  miscella- 
neous expenses  are  $50,000  (£10,000);  while  the  direct 
grant  from  the  state  for  educational  purposes  is  $35,000 
(£7000),  and  the  local  expenses  for  the  same  object  arc 
$50,000  (£10,000)  more— or,  in  all,  $85,000.    Where  is  the 


NEWPORT  AND  RHODE  ISLAND. 


69 


other  state,  great  or  Bmall,  upon  the  globo,  tltut  can  plorify 
itself  by  such  a  fact  as  thist  And,  in  tiie  lant  place,  Khodo 
Island  may  lay  greater  claim  to  being  the  cradle  of  religious 
liberty  than  any  republic,  kingdom,  or  empire  in  the  world. 

The  early  Puritans  and  Pilgrim  Pathorn,  who  shoe*''  the 
dust  of  England  from  the  soles  of  their  feet,  and  nailec    ..cross 
the  Atlantic  to  find  a  spot  where  they  might  wornhip  God  in 
their  own  way,  without  molestation  from  tlio  Htrong  arm  of 
secular  authority,  did  not  always  mete  out  to  othei'M  tlie  meas- 
ure which  they  insisted  upon  for  themselves.    The  Puritan  set- 
tlers in  Massachusetts  became  as  intolerant  of  others,  when 
settled  in  their  new  homes,  as  the  religious  opprcttsors  in  En- 
gland from  whose  oppression  they  had  escaped,  and  dccrrccd  the 
penalties  of  fine,  imprisonment,  and  even  death  uguifiHt  all  who 
would  not  conform  to  the  observances  and  the  doctrine  of  that 
sectarianism  which  they  arrogantly  considcrctl  ns  containing 
thkj  whole  and  only  truth  of  God.     Among  other  stanch  and 
uncompromising  men  to  whom  this  Puritan  intolerance  was 
intolerable  was  Roger  Williams,  who  boldly  proclaimed  in 
Massachusetts,  to  the  scandal  and  alarm  of  the  magistracy, 
that  conscience  was  free,  and  that  in  a  Christian  and  a  free 
state  no  man  ought  to  be  troubled  or  called  to  account  for  his 
religious  opinions,  whatever  they  might  bo.      This  was  too 
bold  for  Massachusetts,  and  too  wicked,  in  the  opinion  of  the 
ruling  classes,  to  be  endured.     Williams  was  warnoi;  of  ihe 
danger  of  persisting  in  preaching  such  doctrines,  but  ho  v/o'sld 
not  flinch  from  his  principles ;  and,  ultimately,  after  a  f  vies 
of  suflferings  in  the  wilderness,  the  history  of  wliich  has  lately 
been  given  to  the  world,  he  fled  from  the  inhospitable  soil  in 
a  canoe,  with  five  companions,  to  seek  amid  the  kinder  sav- 
ages a  few  acres  of  land  to  cultivate,  and  a  cortjcr  of  the  earth 
where  he  might  pray  to  God  in  his  own  fashion.     Hailing  and 
rowing  on  this  forlorn  expedition,  he  arrived  after  many  days 
at  a  little  arm  of  the  sea  stretching  inward  from  the  IJay  of 
NaiTagansett.    Here  he  saw  an  Indian  standing  upon  a  rock, 
who  made  friendly  gestures,  and  called  to  him  in  English, 
"What  cheer?"     The  words  seemed  of  good  omen;  Roger 
Williams  landed  ;  was  kindly  received  by  the  chiefs ;  fixed  his 


70 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


m 


i 


<mm 


111  I 


In"'    !' 


abode  on  the  adjoining  land ;  received  a  large  grant  of  terri- 
tory, and  gave  it  the  name  of  Providence.  Close  to  the  spot 
where  he  landed  is  the  site  of  the  city  of  the  same  name,  and 
capital  of  Rhode  Island.  In  the  course  of  time,  other  men 
and  women  flying  from  persecution,  and  being  invited  by  Wil- 
liam^ to  join  him  in  what  he  called  his  "  place  of  shelter  for 
per  ons  distressed  for  conscience,"  gathered  about  him  in  con- 
siderable numbers.  To  the  most  able  and  enterprising  of 
these  Williams  freely  gave  portions  of  the  land  which  he  had 
received  from  the  Indians,  and  the  colony  increased  and  pros- 
pered. The  words,  *'What  cheer  f*  were  adopted  as  the 
motto  of  the  state  thus  singularly  formed  ;  and  in  1644  Wil- 
liams proceeded  to  England,  and  procured  a  charter  from  King 
Charles  I.,  constituting  his  settlements  into  a  colony  under 
the  style  and  title  of  the  "  Plantations  of  Providence  and 
Rhode  Island."  This  charter  requiring  amendment  and  ex- 
tension, Williams,  then  a  venerable  old  man,  paid  a  second 
visit  to  England  in  1663,  and  obtained  a  new  charter  from 
Charles  II.  By  this  charter  the  citizens  were  empowered  to 
elect  their  own  governor — a  greater  degree  of  liberty  than 
was  accorded  in  those  days  to  Massachusetts  and  other  states, 
whose  governors  were  appointed  by  the  crown.  Thanks  to 
such  men  as  Roger  Williams,  and  to  such  also  as  William  Penn 
in  Pennsylvania,  and  Lord  Baltimore  'in  Maryland — though 
the  last  two  did  not  suffer  in  the  cause  as  Williams  did — ab- 
solute religious  toleration  has  become  the  law  of  the  whole 
American  Union ;  and  Puritanism,  while  retaining  its  other 
features,  has  ceased  to  persecute.  It  is  said  that  no  stone  or 
memorial  marks  the  spot  where  this  patriot  of  liberty  is  buried. 
Memorials  and  monuments  of  Washington  are  to  be  found 
every  where ;  but  surely  Rhode  Island,  and  the  friends  of  re- 
ligious freedom  in  America,  owe  it  to  themselves  to  do  honor 
to  the  dust  of  one  quite  as  worthy  of  honor,  in  his  own  way, 
as  Washington  himself. 


ill'  (}      ■    >        i 


-I 


■■■■       ^ 


rHILADELFHIA. 


n 


CHAPTER  X. 

PHILADELPHIA. 

Philadelphia,  Dec.  10,  1857. 
Keturning  from  the  beautiful  Niagara  to  Boston,  and  from 
Boston  to  New  York,  I  thence  proceeded  to  Philadelphia,  the 
capital  of  Pennsylvania,  the  "  Keystone  State."  Pennsylvania 
derives  this  title  as  being  the  "keystone"  of  American  liberty, 
and  the  .»ccne  of  the  ever-memorable  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence. The  point  of  departure  from  New  York  is  at  Jersey 
City,  over  the  Hudson  or  North  River  Ferry,  and  the  point  of 
arrival  is  at  Camden,  on  the  River  Delaware,  exactly  opposite 
to  the  city  of  the  Quakers,  to  which  the  passengers  are  con- 
veyed by  one  of  the  monster  steam  ferry-boats  common  in  all 
the  rivers  of  the  Union.  The  road  passes  the  whole  way 
througli  the  flat  alluvial  districts  of  New  Jersey — ^a  state 
which  the  New  Yorkers  declare  to  stand  in  the  same  anoma- 
lous relation  to  the  Union  as  that  occupied  by  the  town  of 
Berwick-upon-Tweed  to  the  kingdoms  of  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland.  But  New  Jersey  can  afibrd  to  despise  the  joke,  if 
joke  it  be ;  for,  though  one  of  the  smallest,  it  is  one  of  the 
most  prosperous  states  of  the  Republic. 

Philadelphia,  eighty-seven  miles  by  rail  from  New  York,  is 
the  second  city  of  the  Union,  with  a  population  of  about 
500,000  ^ouls.  It  stands  upon  a  level  with  the  waters  of  the 
Delaware,  and  does  not  possess  within  its  whole  boundaries  a 
natural  eminence  one  third  of  the  height  of  Ludgate  Hill.  It 
contains  a  large  number  of  churches  and  chapels,  but  none  of 
them  is  distinguished  for  architectural  beauty  of  dome,  tower, 
or  spire.  The  whole  place  is  formal,  precise,  and  unattract- 
ive, leaving  no  impression  upon  the  mind  of  the  traveler  but 
that  of  a  weary  sameness  and  provoking  rectangularity.  Ex- 
cept in  Chestnut  Street  (the  centre  of  business)  and  Walnut 
Street  (the  fashionable  quarter),  all  the  streets  of  the  city  are 


^;- 


„./-fl 


m"^ 
i^^'?^ 


p: 


III 


h4 


hiim 


72 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


built  on  tho  f»amc  model.  The  same  tliird-rate  houses— of 
the  kind  whicli  the  Englishm:in  sees  in  llirmin<;hain  and  Man- 
chester— P'jcni  to  rise  on  every  side,  all  of  one  color  and  of  one 
shajK; :  all  with  green  Venetian  blinds  on  llie  rnper,  and  with 
white  blinds  on  the  lower  stoiicje ;  hI\  cquriliy  piim,  dull,  and 
respectable.  The  foot-pavemenus  are  of  the  sann  color  as  the 
houses,  neither  drab  nor  red,  bii  a  nii>.;ure  )f  Int  .^  suggestive 
of  the  story  of  tlie  ILnglisii  Quake  of  the  old  school,  to  whom, 
as  ho  sat  behind  hU  desk  at  liis  warehouse  in  Manchcjster,  was 
delivered  u.  packet,  with  a  bill  re;|nesting  pavinent.  The  old 
Quaker  opened  the  packv t,  an!  found  a  red  iiunting-coat. 

*'"\Vhat  id  this?"  he  iaid  to  tho  mcosongt',)'.  "There  is  a 
mistake  here,  friend." 

"  No,"  .said  the  messenger ;  "  'lis  a  coat  for  Mr.  Thomas." 

"  Thomas,"  said  the  father  to  the  young  Quaker,  who  had 
become  smitten  with  an  unquakcrly  passion  for  hunting,  "  is 
this  for  thee  r 

*'  Yea,  father,"  replied  the  son. 

"  And  what  is  it  ?"  rejoined  the  sire. 

•"  A  coat,"  replied  the  son. 

"  Yea,  Thomas ;  but  what  color  is  it  ?" 

"  Why,"  said  Thomas,  somewhat  bewildered,  and  scratch- 
ing his  head  to  expedite  the  delivery  of  the  tardy  answer, 
"  it's  a  kind  of  fiery  drab." 

Such  is  the  color  of  Philadelphia — the  Quaker  city,  the 
city  of  Brotherly  Love,  or,  according  to  the  disparaging  asser- 
tion of  New  Yorkers,  the  city  of  "brotherly  love  and  riots." 
It  is  fiery  drab  wherever  you  turn — fiery  drab  houses,  fieiy 
dri:b  pavements,  fiery  drab  chapels,  and  fiery  drab  churches. 
One  peculiarity  of  Philadelphia,  in  addition  to  the  unvarying 
rectangularity  of  its  streets,  is,  that  the  carriage-ways  are  al- 
ways dirty  and  the  foot-ways  always  clean.  Nobody  purifios, 
or  cares  to  purify,  the  carriage-road,  but  every  body  seems  to 
be  bent  upon  cleaning  the  fie^y  d.'*a,b  pavements.  Morning, 
noon,  and  night  the  work  of  .olution  goes  on.  Negro  men 
and  women,  with  a  fair  aJ^  ,?xtare  of  Irish  female  "helps," 
are  continually  squirting:  water  over  the  pavemeni3  from  gut- 
ta-percha tubes,  and  twirling  the  moisture  from  tiieir  ever- 


PHIIJIDELPUIA. 


73 


IS 


r,  the 
isser- 


^rying 
re  al- 

Lxki  -»5 

to 

men 

|elps," 

gut- 

cver- 


busy  mop«  over  the  lower  gnrmentfl  of  the  wayfarers,  till  the 
Blrccts  run  with  water.  The  paHHing  vchidcH  continually 
chum  up  the  mud,  and  the  road  la  never  allowed  to  diy,  un- 
lesH  under  the  irreHiHtiblo  compulsiun  of  the  thermometer  be- 
low zero.        *  > 

The  population  of  Philadelphia  is  not  so  largely  imbued 
with  the  Quaker  element  as  might  bo  supposed  from  its  his- 
tory and  origin.     Though  William  Pcnn  was  its  founder,  and 
is,  to  some  extent,  its  patron  saint,  the  co-religionists  of  Wil- 
liam Penn,  so  far  from  being  in  the  majority,  do  not  number 
above  30,000  out  of  500,000  inhabitants.     Scotchmen  and 
descendants  of  Scotchmen  are  numerous ;  Irish  and  descend- 
ants of  Irish  are  also  numerous ;  and  Germans  and  descend- 
ants of  Germans  more  numerous  still.     To  the  Germans, 
Philadelphia  owes  the  establishment  within  the  last  five  years 
of  several  extensive  breweries,  and  the  introduction  to  eveiy 
part  of  the  Union  of  a  taste  for  *'  lager  bievj"  an  excellent  bev- 
erage well  suited  to  the  climate,  and  resembling  the  Bavarian 
beer  of  Europe,  though  by  no  means  so  strong  or  so  aromatic 
as  the  lager  bier  of  Vienna,  from  which  it  derives  its  name. 
Prior  to  the  introduction  of  this  novelty,  beer  was  very  little 
in  America.     English  porter,  stout,  and  ale,  besides  being  ex- 
orbitantly dear,  were  not  well  suited  to  the  climate,  but  lager 
bier  supplied  the  very  article  required.    It  was  exactly  to  the 
taste  of  the  Germans,  and  from  them  a  love  of  it  has  gradu- 
ally extended  to  all  sections  and  races  of  the  American  peo- 
ple,   ''.'he  rich  consume  oysters  and  Champagne ;  the  poorer 
cla&:  r  consume  oysters  and  lager  bier^  and  that  is  one  of  the 
principal  social  differences  between  the  two  sections  of  the 
community.     If  Messrs.  Bass  or  Allsopp  ever  had  a  chance 
of  extending  their  trade  into  America,  the  lager  bier  breweries 
of  Philadelphia  have  seriously  diminished  it.     What  Ameri- 
can will  give  thirty-seven  cents  (eighteen  pence  English)  for  a 
pynt  of  English  pale  ale  or  porter,  when  he  can  procure  a  pint 
of  home-brewed  lager  for  five  cents? 

There  are  some  fine  stores,  banks,  and  warehouses  in 
Chestnut  Street,  and  some  showy  buildings  of  granite  and 
white  marble  in  course  of  construction.     There  ai'e  also  some 


74 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


Ml 


nuporior  privnto  liouscs  of  marble  and  granite  in  Wulnut 
Strcitt.  Jt  iM  one  of  the  pccuIiuriticH  of  IMiiitululphiu  that  the 
door-HtcpH  of  every  houms  that  has  any  pretensions  to  style  are 
of  white  marble.  At  this  season,  however,  the  white  marbl*- 
of  the  door-steps  is  covered  up  with  wood,  and  workmen  arc 
busily  employed  in  the  principal  thoroughfares  in  incasing  the 
Htcps  in  planks  of  deal  in  preparation  for  the  frost ;  they  would 
otherwise  be  so  slippery  as  to  be  dangerous  to  life  and  limb; 
so  that  the  luxuriousness  of  a  Philadclphian  door-step  is  some- 
what like  that  of  a  "dress  poker"  in  England — something  for 
mIiow  rather  than  for  use. 

There  arc  but  two  public  buildings  in  the  city  which  will 
repay  the  visit  of  any  traveler  who  is  pressed  for  time,  and 
these  are  the  State  House,  or  Independence  Hall,  in  Chestnut 
Htreet — the  most  venerable  and  the  most  venerated  building 
in  America — and  the  Girard  College,  at  the  outskirts  of  the 
town.  No  stranger  should  omit  visiting  them  both.  The 
Htato  House  is  illustrious  as  the  place  where  the  first  Ameri- 
can Congress  held  its  sittings,  and  where,  on  the  ever-memor- 
iible  4tli  of  July,  1776,  the  Declaration  of  Ijidependenco  was 
adopted,  and  read  to  the  assembled  people,  and  publicly  pro- 
claimed from  the  steps  fronting  the  street.  The  building  has 
been  jealously  preserved  as  it  stood  in  that  day,  and  the  room 
in  which  the  solemn  conclave  was  held — now  called  the  Hall 
of  Independence — is  adorned  with  the  same  internal  fittings 
and  decorations  as  on  the  day  tbfit  made  America  a  free  and 
great  nation.  Cold  is  the  heart,  and  stagnant  the  fancy  and 
imagination  of  any  man,  whatever  his  nation  or  habits  of 
thought,  who  can  stand  unmoved  in  this  simple  chamber,  or 
be  unimpressed  by  the  noble  thoughts  and  generous  aspira- 
tions which  its  history  excites.  On  every  side  are  relics  of 
the  great  departed — portraits  of  the  high-souled  and  fearless 
men  who  affixed  their  signatures  to  the  document  which  sev- 
ered their  connection  with  the  country  of  their  birth  and  their 
ancestors.  These  men  loved  the  old  country  as  a  true  son 
loves  the  unjust  and  hard-hearted  father  in  spite  of  his  injus- 
ti(;o  and  obstinacy,  and  with  the  yearning  hope,  strong  as  na- 
ture itself,  that  the  father  will  ri^icat,  or,  if  he  ■-'  -  not  relent, 


PHILADELPHIA. 


76 


acknowledge  that  ago  has  its  faults  aa  wc.i  as  youth,  and  that 
the  duty  of  age  is  to  bo  tolerant  and  forgiving.  Tl.cy  entered 
upon  n  career  which,  when  they  began  it,  wjis  rebellion,  but 
which  afterward  became  revolution,  with  many  forelxjdings, 
and  with  a  deep,  earnest,  religious  sense  of  the  responsibility 
they  had  undertaken.  Among  other  relics  of  the  time  and 
the  men  are  the  walking-stick  of  Washington  and  the  writ- 
ing-table of  Benjamin  Franklin.  The  table  has  a  ticket  upon 
it  announcing  it  for  sale,  upon  the  condition  that  the  purchaser 
do  not  remove  the  relic  from  Philadelphia,  and  that  he  allow 
the  public  to  have  access  to  it  at  stated  times.  The  price  is 
only  120  dollars,  about  £24  sterling;  but  the  city  of  Phila- 
delphia, according  to  the  janitor  of  the  hall,  is  too  poor  to  pur- 
chase it,  being  deeply  involved  in  debt,  without  a  cent  which 
it  can  fairly  call  its  own.  Another  relic,  still  more  interest- 
ing than  either  of  these,  is  the  great  bell,  which,  on  the  4th 
of  July,  1776,  rang  to  the  people  the  joyous  tidings  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  and  which  now  bears,  and  bore 
long  before  its  sonorous  voice  was  called  into  requisition  on 
that  august  occasion,  the  prophetic  inscription,  "  Proclaim  lib- 
erty throughout  the  lands,  and  to  all  the  '^cvplcs  thereof,**  This 
bell,  a  sacred  one  to  all  Amcncans,  is  now  past  service;  and 
having  been  accidentally  cracked  some  years  ago — like  Big 
Ben  of  "Westminster — was  removed  from  the  belfry  to  the 
hall,  where  it  no\^r  stands  surmounted  by  a  stuffed  eagle. 
Either  the  eagle  is  too  small  for  the  bell,  or  the  bell  is  too 
large  for  the  eagle — a  disparity  which  strikes  all  visitors. 
On  mentioning  my  impression  to  the  janitor,  he  admitted  the 
fact,  and  stated  that  last  year  an  American  gentleman,  who 
entertained  the  same  idea,  sent  him  a  splendid  eagle,  nearly 
three  times  as  large  as  the  actual  occupant  of  the  place  of 
honor.  Unfortunately,  however,  the  big  eagle  had  but  one 
wing;  and,  as  a  disabled  eagle  upon  a  cracked  bell  would 
have  afforded  but  too  many  opportunities  to  the  gibers  of  gibes 
and  the  Jokers  of  jokes,  the  gift  was  respectfully  declined,  and 
the  little  eagle,  strong,  compact,  and  without  a  flaw,  holds  his 
seat  upon  tha  relic,  until  some  more  ponderous  and  unexcep- 
tional bird  shall  be  permitted  to  dethrone  him. 


m 


Tt 


H 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


'I:,' 


Tho  Girnrd  College  is  a  noble  building  of  white  marble — 
beyond  all  comparison  tho  iincst  public  monument  on  tho 
Korth  American  continent.  It  is  built  on  the  model  of  a 
Grecian  tcmplo  of  the  Corinthian  order ;  is  218  feet  long,  IGO 
brr-id.  Ui'd  97  high,  and  closely  resembles  tho  beautiful  Town- 
hall  of  Itirmingham,  the  great  difference  between  the  two  be- 
ing the  dazzling  whiteness  and  moro  costly  material  of  the 
Philadelphian  edifice.  The  grounds  of  the  main  building  and 
its  four  contiguous  halls  cover  forty-five  acres.  Stephen  Gi- 
rard,  the  founder,  or^'ginally  a  poor  French  emigrant,  came  to 
Philadelphia  at  ten  years  of  age,  without  a  penny  or  a  friend, 
and,  as  a  merchant  and  banker  in  the  city  of  his  adoption,  ac- 
cumulated a  fortune  of  upward  of  six  millions  of  dollars,  the 
greater  portion  of  which  he  bequeathed  to  the  college  which 
bears  his  name.  The  college  and  grounds  cost  two  millions 
of  dollars,  or  £400,000  sterling,  and  their  endowment  about 
as  much  more.  Tho  institution  is  for  tho  support  and  educa- 
tion of  orphan  boys,  such  as  Girard  himself  was  when  he  first 
came  to  Philadelphia.  Tho  peculiarity  of  the  institution  is 
that  no  religious  doctrine  whatever  's  permittod  to  be  taught 
within  its  walls.  The  Bible,  without  comment,  i".  road  night 
and  morning  to  the  boys ;  but  such  a  dislike  had  tht  founder 
to  priests  and  clergymen  of  all  denominations,  that  no  minis- 
ter of  religion  is  permitted  even  to  enter  within  the  walls  of 
the  college.  The  question  is  put  to  all  visitors  whether  they 
are  clergymen ;  and,  if  the  reply  be  in  the  affirmative,  they 
are  refused  admittance.  Upon  these,  as  well  as  upon  the  per- 
sonal grounds  of  their  own  disinheritance,  the  will  was  con- 
tested by  the  numerous  relations  of  Girard.  The  poor  boy 
had  no  relatjoiis  and  no  friends  when  he  came  to  Philadelphia, 
but  France  produced  a  whole  colony  of  relatives  before  and 
after  his  death.  But  in  all  countries  rich  men  have  more 
cousins  than  they  are  aware  of.  After  a  long  course  of  liti- 
gation, the  sanity  of  the  testator,  as  well  as  the  morality  of 
the  will,  "^v-as  established  by  the  courts,  and  upward  of  three 
liundred  boys  are,  now  receiving  within  the  walls  of  the  col- 
lege a  plain  education  to  fit  them  for  the  duties  of  life.  In 
ILe  entrance-hall  is  ii  fine  marble  statue  of  Stephen  Girard. 


WASniNOTON. 


77 


fturmountin^  Horcophagus  containing  hla  roumins — for  U  wixn 
another  command  in  hitt  will  that  he  should  not  bo  buried  in 
consecrated  ground.  In  an  upper  chamber  of  the  building  are 
preserved  his  household  furniture,  !>is  day-books  and  Icdgcm, 
his  china,  his  pictures,  and  his  wearing  apparel.  Among  the 
latter  is  a  pair  of  blue  velvet  knee-breeches  which  he  wore  at 
the  time  of  his  death — very  threadbare  and  shabby — and 
adorned  with  several  patches  far  more  substantial  than  the 
gtuiuent  whoso  deficiencies  they  attempted  to  hide. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


WASHINGTON. 


WoshinRton,  Jon.  11,  1858. 

Washington,  the  official  and  political  capital  of  the  United 
States,  is  beautifully  situated  on  the  Potomac,  a  wide  but  not 
deep  river,  at  a  distance  of  upward  of  250  miles  from  the 
ocean.  It  is  226  miles  from  New  York,  136  from  Philadel- 
phia, and  40  from  Baltimore,  and  contains  a  population  of  up- 
ward of  60,000  souls,  of  whom  8000  are  free  blacks,  and  2000 
slaves.  The  city  is  laid  out  into  wide  streets  and  avenues — 
wider  than  Portland  Place  in  London,  or  Sackville  Street  in 
Dublin.  The  avenues,  as  the  principal  thoroughfares  are  call- 
ed, radiate  from  the  Capitol,  or  Palace  of  the  Legislature,  as 
their  centre,  and  are  named  after  the  thirteen  original  States 
of  the  Federation.  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  leading  direct  from 
the  Capitol  to  the  White  House,  or  mansion  of  the  President, 
is  about  a  mile  in  length,  and  of  a  noble  width,  but  contains 
few  buildings  of  a  magnitude  commensurate  with  its  own  pro- 
portions. The  houses  on  each  side  are  for  the  most  part  of 
third-rate  size  and  construction,  and,  in  consequence  of  the 
spaciousness  of  the  roadway,  look  even  meaner  and  smaller 
than  they  are. 

Washington,  with  a  somewhat  unsavory  addition,  which  it 
would  offend  polite  ears  to  repeat,  was  called  by  a  late  cele- 
brated senator  the  "  city  of  magnificent  distances,"  and  well 
justifies  the  title.     On  every  side  the  distances  stretch  out  in 


if  ■ 


If  LIFE  AND  LIBERTV'   1!     AMEIIICA. 

apparenlly  iiitormiimblc  lincH,  Migg'^'Inf^  to  tlu»  Granger  wlio 
wallcH  through  tho  city  ut  night,  when  the  gnn  InnifM  nhitw 
their  fairy  nuliunco  at  long  intervals,  a  popuhition  of  at  lcu>*t 
a  million  of  houIh.  But  at  daylight  tho  iiluMion  vaniHlies. 
Tlio  marks  of  good  intention  and  noble  design  are  every  "where 
apparent,  but  those  of  fulfillment  are  nowhere  to  Iw  found. 
All  is  inchoate,  straggling,  confused,  heterogeneous,  and  in- 
complete. In  tho  same  street  are  to  be  found  a  splendid  mar- 
ble edifice  of  a  magnitude  such  as  would  make  it  tho  orna- 
ment of  any  caj)ital  in  the  world,  while  opposite  and  on  each 
side  of  it  are  low  brick  houses,  crazy  wooden  sheds,  and  filthy 
pig-sties,  suggestive  of  tho  Milesian  clement  in  the  population. 
Such  a  street  is  F  Street,  la  which  the  Patcnt-oirico  is  situ- 
ated, and  such  streets  arc  11  and  I  Streets,  where  many  of  the 
diplomatic  corps  and  the  fashion  of  Washington  have  taken  up 
their  residence.  And  here  it  may  be  mentioned  that  the 
founders  of  the  city  seem  to  have  exhausted  tlicir  inventive 
ingenuity  when  they  named  the  principal  streets  after  the 
States  of  the  Union.  Having  taxed  their  imagination  to  this 
extent,  or  having  no  imagination  at  all,  they  resorted  to  the 
letters  of  the  alphabet  as  a  mode  of  nomenclature.  When 
they  had  exhausted  these — an  easy  matter  in  a  growing  city 
— they  brought  arithmetic  to  the  rescue  of  their  poverty,  as 
was  done  in  New  York,  Philadelphia,  and  other  cities.  Thus, 
in  receiving  cards  and  returning  visits,  the  stranger  may  not 
unfrequently  find  that  he  has  been  called  upon  by  Mr.  Jones, 
of  No.  99  Ninety-ninth  Street,  or  must  visit  Mr.  Brown,  at 
No.  3  Third  Street,  or  Mr.  Smith  at  No.  22  Twenty-second 
Street.  The  system  has  its  advantages,  no  doub*,  but  is  some- 
what stiff  and  mathematical,  and  ignores  a  very  cheap  but 
very  effective  mode  of  rendering  honor  to  the  great  men  of  the 
country,  living  or  dead — the  giving  of  their  names  to  the  pub- 
lic thoroughfares.  If  Washington  gave  his  name  to  the  city, 
why  should  not  the  names  of  other  great  Americans  be  given 
to  its  streets  ? 

Besides  its  noble  Capitol,  with  its  towering  dome,  Washing- 
ton possesses  many  elegant  public  buildings,  such  as  the  White 
House^  or  executive  mansion,  the  Treasury  buildings,  the 


Si 


'J, 

o 


ni 


I  'i  I 


3   I' 

r    ti-;   I 


i   I 


.ii    El' 


m 

Mi 


A  I; 


■Mm  1 


WASHTNOTON. 


81 


•  AS 

♦ft 


Patcntz-office,  and  the  rost-oflTicc.  Were  these  edifices,  which 
arc  mostly  of  white  marble,  concentrated,  as  they  might  and 
ought  to  have  been,  in  the  great  artery  of  Pennsylvania  Av- 
enue, Insteau  of  being  scattered  over  various  portions  of  the 
city,  Washington  might  have  possessed  at  least  one  street  to 
rival  or  sr  i-pass  the  Rn  de  Rivoli  in  Paris.  But  the  oppor- 
tunity has  been  lost,  and  can  never  again  recur.  Still,  it  is 
impossible  not  to  believe  that  Washington  will  yet  become  one 
of  the  most  splendid  cities  on  this  continent.  It  has  all  the 
elements  of  beauty  as  well  as  of  greatness,  both  in  itself  and 
its  immediate  environs ;  and  when  it  becomes  as  po^^.  ulous  as 
New  York,  which  it  is  likely  to  be  in  less  than  fifty  years,  un- 
less the  seat  of  government  be  transferred  in  the  interval  to 
some  such  place  as  St.  Louis,  nearer  to  the  centre  of  the  re- 
public, the  inferior  buildings  that  line  its  spacious  streets  will 
disappear,  and  its  "magnificent  distances"  will  be  adorned 
with  an  architecture  worthy  of  the  capital  of  fifty,  perhaps  of 
a  hundred,  young  and  vigorous  republics. 

The  site  of  Washington  was  chosen  by  George  Washington 
himself,  who  laid  the  comer-stone  of  the  Capitol  on  the  18th 
of  September,  1793.  At  that  time,  and  for  some  years  after- 
ward, the  sittings  of  the  Legislature  were  held  in  Independ- 
ence Hall,  Philadelphia.  The  city  stands  in  the  District  of 
Columbia,  in  territory  ceded  for  the  purpose  by  the  Common- 
wealth of  Virginia  and  Maryland,  and  covers  an  area  of  sixty 
square  miles.  Originally  its  measure  was  one  hundred  square 
miles;  but  in  1846,  forty  square  miles  were  restored  <-o  the 
Commonwealth.  The  dieign  as  well  as  the  location  of  the 
city  is  due  to  the  genius  of  Washington,  under  whose  direc- 
tions the  plans  were  executed  by  Major  L'Enfant.  The  limits 
extend  from  northwest  to  southeast  about  four  miles  and  a 
half,  and  from  cast  to  southwest  about  two  miles  and  a  half. 
The  circumference  of  the  city  is  fourteen  miles,  and  the  aggre- 
gate length  of  the  streets  is  computed  at  199  miles,  and  of  the 
avenues  sixty-five  miles.  The  average  width  of  the  principal 
thoroughfares  is  from  seventy  to  one  hundred  and  ten  feet. 

The  original  Capitol  was  so  much  damaged  by  the  British 
invading  force  in  the  unfortunate  war  of  1814,  that  in  the 

T)2 


'•fx  »     .r| 


82 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY   IN   AMERICA. 


:j' 


1: 


following  year  it  M'us  found  necessary  to  reconstruct  it.  In 
1828  it  was  entirely  repaired;  and  in  1851,  being  found  in- 
sufficient for  the  increasing  business  of  the  nation,  it  was  de- 
termined to  add  two  wings  to  it,  which  are  at  the  present 
time  in  process  of  construction,  together  with  a  new  and  lofty 
<lome  of  iron,  from  the  plans  and  under  the  superintendence 
of  Captain  Meigs,  the  architect  The  Capitol  contains  the 
halls  or  chambers  of  the  Senate  and  the  House  of  Bepresent- 
utives.  The  former  numbers  64,  and  the  latter  about  250 
members.  It  also  contains  the  hall  of  the  Supreme  Court, 
where  nine  judges,  robed,  but  not  bewigged — and  the  only 
functionaries,  except  those  of  the  army  and  navy,  who  wear 
an  official  costume — sit  to  administer  justice,  and  to  control 
and  regulate  the  whole  action  of  the  government,  in  a  manner 
quite  unknown  to  the  Constitution  of  Great  Britain.  The 
Capitol  is  built  of  white  marble,  and  gleams  in  the  sunshine 
of  this  beautiful  climate  in  a  manner  trying  to  the  eyes  of  an 
Englishman  accustomed  to  the  mui'ky  sombreness  of  the  public 
monuments  of  London. 

The  White  House,  or  President's  mansion,  is  of  freestone, 
painted  white  in  imitation  of  marble.  It  ^o  a  plain  but  ele- 
gant building,  befitting  the  unpretending  dignity  of  the  popular 
chief  magistrate  of  a  country  whete  government  is  minimized, 
and  where  the  trappings  and  paraphernalia  of  state  and  office 
are  unknown  or  uncongenial.  Here  the  President — a  man 
who  possesses,  during  his  term  of  office,  a  far  greater  amount 
of  power  and  patronage  than  the  sovereign  of  any  state  in 
Europe,  except  the  Emperors  of  Fmnce,  Russia,  and  Austria 
— transacts,  without  any  unnecessary  forms,  and  with  no  for- 
mality or  ceremony  at  all,  the  business  of  his  great  and  grow- 
ing dominion.  Here  he  receives,  at  stated  days  and  periods, 
ladies  or  gentlemen  who  choose  to  call  upon  him,  either  for 
business  or  pleasure,  or  from  mere  curiosity.  Here  he  shakes 
liands  with  the  courtly  and  urbane  embassadors  of  European 
powers,  or  with  the  veriest  "rowdies"  from  New  York,  or 
'•  plug-uglies"  from  Baltimore,  who  either  have,  or  fancy  they 
have,  business- with  him,  T,nd  ^hat,  too,  without  the  necessity 
of  a  i)ersonal  introduction.     There  is  n«.«  man  in  the  United 


WASniNOTON. 


88 


States  who  has  such  a  quantity  of  hancl>ffhnking  to  get  through 
as  the  President.  Throughout  the  whole  (country,  every  lx)dy 
shakes  hands  with  every  body  else,  though  the  hullcs  are  far 
more  chary  of  the  privilege  than  tI»o  ruder  wx.  If  the  gen- 
tlemen would  but  shake  hands  less,  and  the  ladies  would 
shake  hands  a  little  more,  America  would  Iks  jierfectly  de- 
lightful to  the  man  of  many  friends  and  ucquaintances.  Per- 
haps the  President,  if  not  a  happier,  would  bo  a  Ixstter  satis- 
fied chief  magistrate. 

Washington  has  no  trade  or  commorco  of  its  own,  and  is 
deserted  for  nearly  half  the  year.  It  tlM-n-fore  presents  a 
greater  number  of  the  characteristics  of  a  fusliionable  water- 
ing-place that  of  a  capital  city.  IJut,  as  the  country  increases 
in  wealth  and  population,  Washington  will  increase  with  it, 
and  will  gradually  lose  the  provincial  up{)earance  which  it 
now  presents,  and  assume  the  completeness  to  which  its  posi- 
tion as  the  seat  of  the  Legislature  and  of  all  the  departments 
of  government  entitle  it.  Never  was  there  a  place  in  which 
office-hunters  and  place-seekers  more  assiduously  congregate. 
The  ante-chambers  of  the  President  are  daily  thronged  with 
solicitants — with  men  who  think  they  lu^lped  to  make  the 
President,  and  who  are  consequently  of  opinion  that  the  Pres- 
ident should  lielp  to  make  them.  I  thought,  when  presented 
to  Mr.  Buchanan,  tliat  ho  seemed  relieved  to  find  that  I  was 
.in  Englishman,  and  had  nothing  to  ask  him  for — no  little 
place  for  self,  or  cousin,  or  friend,  or  son,  for  which  to  beg 
liis  all-powerful  patronage.  "  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  when  the 
crowd  was  ushcrc^  pell-mell  into  his  prcstmce,  without  the 
intervention  of  any  stick  (gold  or  siivcr)  in  waiting,  "I  must 
take  you  by  the  miller's  rule — first  come  first  served.  Have 
the  goodness  to  state  your  business  as  shortly  as  possible,  as  I 
hare  much  to  do  and  little  time  to  do  it  in."  And  so  the 
crowd  passed  up,  each  man  sliaking  hands  with  the  chief 
magistrate,  and  receiving  a  polite,,  and,  in  many  instances, 
a  cordial  reception.  Whether  they  received  any  thing  else 
at  that  or  at  any  future  time,  or  whether  th(fy  still  linger 
on,  feeding  upon  hopes  deferred,  whi<!h  make  the  heart 
sick,  is  best  known  to  themselves ;  but  I  saw  enough  to 


-^5 


84 


LIFE  AND  LIBEBTT  IN  AMERICA. 


;, 


1.  ' 


convince  me  that  it  i»  not  an  easy  thing  to  bo  a  popular 
President. 

I  passed  New  Tear's  day  at  Washington,  and  such  a  day  I 
never  passed  before,  or  wish  to  pass  again.  With  two  gen- 
erals and  a  colonel— one  of  the  generals  a  member  of  Con- 
gress for  the  city  of  New  York,  and  the  other  an  ex-member, 
and  the  whole  three  excellent,  amiable,  and  accomplished  gen- 
tlemen, and  having  nothing  military  about  them  but  their  ti- 
tles— I  was  engaged  from  daylight  till  ten  o'clock  at  night  in  a 
constant  whirl  and  chase  of  visiting  and  card-leaving.  En- 
ga^ng  a  hack  carriage  for  the  day  for  some  exorbitant  sum — 
five,  if  not  ten  times  the  usual  charge — we  sallied  forth,  each 
armed  with  at  least  a  couple  of  hundred  cards,  and  drove  to 
leave  them  at  the  places  where  etiquette  and  custom  demand- 
ed. Let  me  attempt  to  give  the  list.  First,  there  was  the 
President — upon  whom  and  his  fair  niece  every  body  in  Wash- 
ington made  it  his  or  her  business  to  call,  from  the  embassa- 
dors of  foreign  powers  down  to  the  book-keepers  and  clerks 
at  the  hotels,  and  the  very  rowdies  of  the  streets.  Next  there 
were  the  foreign  ministers,  whose  ladies  remained  v.t  home  for 
the  especial  purpose ;  then  came  the  married  memoers  of  tho 
government,  and  the  members  of  Congress,  all  of  vhom  ex- 
pected to  receive  the  homage  and  the  good  wishes  of  their 
friends  on  New  Year's  day;  and,  lastly,  every  married  lady 
in  Washington  with  whom  one  had  ever  exchanged  a  word 
or  made  an  obeisance  to.  At  nearly  all  of  these  places — with 
the  sole  exception  of  the  President's  house — the  visitor  was 
expected  to  partake  of  refreshments,  or  to  pretend  to  do  so. 
But  ray  companions,  being  old  stagers  at  the  business,  re- 
served themselves  for  the  best  places,  and  only  on  three  oc- 
casions on  that  memorable  day  did  our  eating  or  drinking 
amount  to  more  than  the  veriest  and  most  barefaced  sham. 
Washington  was  one  scene  of  hurry-scurry  from  morning  to 
night,  and  the  penance  done  by  the  fair  ladies  in  receiving 
such  miscellaneous  crowds  must  have  been  sorely  trying  to 
their  physical  if  not  to  their  mental  comfort.  But  they  bore 
it  with  good-humor ;  and,  if  I  had  not  had  other  reasons  to 
carry  away  a  vivid  recollection  of  tho  beauty,  grace,  elegance. 


1 


P' 


l^'  ■  v< 


INTERVIEW   OF  INDIANS,  ETC. 


87 


ami  unaffected  nniiability  of  the  Indies  of  Amcrira,  the  cx- 
])cricncc  of  that  day  of  toil  would  have  Itoeii  more  thau  sutfi- 
cicnt  to  juHtii'y  Hucli  a  remembrance  in  the  caso  of  the  lulics 
of  Washington. 


CIIAinTJl  XII. 

INTERVIEW  OP  INDIANS  WITH   THEIR   "GREAT   FATHER." 

WasliinKton,  Jnn.  14,  1858. 
I  WAS  present  a  few  days  ago  at  a  great  ceremonial  inter- 
view Iwtween  the  I'rcHident  of  the  United  States  and  delega- 
tions from  three  tribes  of  Indians — the  Poncis,  the  rawnees, 
and  the  Pottawatomics,     Each  delegation  was  totally  uncon- 
nected with  the  other,  and  the  Pawnees  and  Poncas  were  an- 
cient and  hereditary  foes ;  but,  being  in  the  presence  of  their 
"Great  Father,"  as  they  termed  the  President,  they  looked 
upon  each  other  with  as  much  polite  unconcern  as  the  same 
number  of  civilized  "  swells,"  not  formally  introduced,  might 
have  displayed  at  a  fashionable  assembly  in  London  or  Paris. 
They  did  not  appear  to  think  of  each  other,  but  of  their  "  Great 
Father,"  the  splendor  of  his  mansion,  and  the  business  which 
had  brought  some  of  them  two  tliousand  miles  from  their  wil- 
derness to  the  head-quarters  of  American  civilization.     TIk 
interview  was  highly  picturesque;  and,  although  in  some  re- 
spects it  might  seem  to  the  careless  observer  to  partake  of 
the  ludicrous,  its  predominant  character  was  that  of  pathos,  if 
not  of  solemnity.     On  one  side  was  Civilization,  represented 
bv  the  venerable  and  urbane  President,  "with  his  head  as  white 
as  snow,"  and  surrounded  by  his  secretaries  and  chiefs  of  de- 
partments, by  the  beauty  and  fashion  of  Waf-l.iug+'^n,  by  sen- 
ators and  members  of  the  House  of  Representatives,  and  by 
the  ministers  of  foreign  powers.     On  the  other  side  was  Bar- 
barism, represented  by  the  hostile  tribes  in   their  wild  and 
striking  costume — their  red  and  blue  l)lankets  wrapped  closely 
around  them ;  their  long,  straight  black  locks  stuck  full  of 
eagle  plumes,  bound  together  by  uncouth  head-gear  of  all 
shapes,  and  colois,  and  modes  of  manufacture ;  their  ears  laden 


I 


♦  .i#f 


88 


LIFE  AND   LIBERTY   IN   AMERICA. 


ond  overladen  with  ponderous  rings ;  their  necks  adorned  with 
nockluccM  of  beiirs'  cIuwh,  artistically  wrought  together ;  their 
broastii  and  shoulders  with  the  scalps  which  they  had  taken 
from  their  enemies ;  their  h-^nds  grasping  the  spear,  the  tom- 
nliawk,  and  the  war-club ;  and  their  faces,  and  sometimes  their 
hair,  flaubod  over  with  masses  of  red,  blue,  green,  and  yellow 
(Miint,  disposed  in  fantastic  forms  and  patterns  in  accordance 
with  the  rules  of  the  only  heraldry — ^Tor  such  it  is — to  which 
they  are  nccustomed,  and  as  much  subject  to  law  and  ordi- 
nance of  hereditary  descent  as  the  heraldry  of  the  griflSns,  boars' 
heads,  lions  rampant  and  couchant,  bloody  hands,  and  other 
insignia  of  the  heralds'  colleges  of  Europe. 
,  The  interview  took  place  by  appointment  in  the  great  or 
oast  room  of  the  presidential  mansion.  By  eleven  o'cl.)ck  a 
considerable  number  of  spectators  had  assembled,  and  at  half 
past  eleven  the  Indians  made  their  appearance,  ea<'h  delegation  ' 
being  accompanied  b>  its  interpreter.  The  Pawnees,  sixteen 
in  number,  were  first  in  the  order  of  entrance — a  finb  body  of 
men,  some  of  them  naked  to  the  waist,  and  some  wearing  buf- 
falo robes  or  blankets,  and  all  of  them  adorned  with  the  full 
paraphernalia  of  paint  and  feathers  which  the  red  men  like  to 
display  on  great  and  solemn  occasions.  They  were  preceded 
by  a  little  white  lady  of  twelve  or  thirteen  years  of  age,  the 
daughter  of  an  American  gentleman  who  had  charge  of  the 
delegation  on  behalf  of  the  government.  The  Indians  Lad 
adopted  this  little  girl  as  the  daughter  of  their  tribe.  A  sort 
ftfjllle  du  regiment,  she  seemed  quite  proud  of  her  position  as 
the  pot  of  the  savages,  and  accompanied  them  as  part  of  the 
show  in  all  their  public  appearances.  Many  remarks  were 
made  by  the  white  spectators  on  the  theatrical  nature  or  bad 
taste  of  this  display,  not  on  the  part  of  the  Indians,  but  on 
that  of  the  living  parents  of  this  child.  Had  rhe  been  a  found- 
ling of  the  forest,  the  case  would  have  had  itfi  noble  and  touch- 
ing aspects ;  but  at  her  age,  with  a  living  father  able  to  take 
care  of  her,  the  propriety  of  this  companionship  was  held  to 
bo  more  than  questionable.  Next  to  the  Pawnees  followed 
the  Poncas,  six  in  number,  similarly  accoutred  and  bedizened 
— fine,  stalwart,  but  melancholy  men,  with  a  dignity  impressed 


ri||p 


^£m 


.<■* 


*  i-v.^.l 


INTERVIEW  OF  INDIANS,  ETC. 


89 


on  their  fcatureb  5nd  gleaming  from  their  eyes  which  even  the 
grotesque  eccentricities  of  red  and  blue  paint  were  unable  to 
impair.  These,  also,  were  accompanied  by  an  interpreter — a 
bor  icr  trader  of  European  blood,  who  had  picked  up  their 
laiigu  ^e  in  a  long  career  of  commercial  intercourse,  perhaps 
m  tue  exchange  of  fire-water  for  the  spoils  of  the  chase,  or  in 
other  bargains  as  little  to  the  advantage  of  the  simple  red  men. 
Last  of  all  cam'B  the  Pottawatomies,  nine  in  number,  dressed 
in  shabby  European  costume.  This  tribe  claims  to  be  wholly 
or  half  civilized  ;  but  they  seem  to  have  received  nothing  from 
civilization  but  its  vices  and  defects,  and  to  have  lost  the 
manly  bearing,  the  stoical  dignity,  and  the  serene  self-posses- 
sion, as  well  as  ^he  costume  and  habits  of  other  Indian  tribes. 
They  afforded  a  vfiry  marked  contrast  to  the  Pawnees  and 
Poncas.  They  had  an  air  of  cunning,  servility,  and  meanness 
in  every  lineament  of  their  countenances  and  motion  of  their 
bodies,  as  well  defined  and  unmistakable  as  the  seedy  shabbi- 
ness  and  awkwardness  of  their  costume.  A  little  red  and 
blue  paint  would  have  added  a  positive  grace  to  their  sallow, 
baboon-like  faces,  would  have  made  them  look  real  instead  of 
unreal,  and  shown  them  to  be  the  savages  which  they  actually 
were.  These  poor  Pottawatomies  were  somewhat  out  of  fa- 
vor. They  had  a  special  grievance  and  wrong  to  detail  to 
the  President  j  but,  having  chosen  to  come  to  "Washington 
without  the  permisi-on  of  the  official  agent  charged  with  the 
administration  of  I  idian  affairs,  they  were  there  at  their  own 
cost  and  risk.  Not  so  the  Pawnees  and  Poncas,  who  had 
been  specially  invite  I  by  the  proper  authorities,  and  whose 
expenses  were  paid  by  the  government  from  the  day  they  had 
left  their  own  hunting-grounds,  and  would  be  paid  back  to 
their  o^vn  homes  in  vhe  same  way,  after  they  had  seen  all  the 
(fights  and  partaken  of  all  the  gayeties  of  the  capital. 

At  twelve  o'clock  precisely  the  President  entered  the  east 
room  and  took  his  position  in  the  centre  of  a  square,  of  which 
the  Indians  formed  three  sides  and  the  spectators  the  fourth. 
The  Indians,  who  till  this  time  had  been  silent  and  wondering 
spectators  of  the  rich  carpet,  the  curtained  windows,  and  gild- 
ed cornices  of  the  i  '^ception-room — no  doubt  the  most  magnif- 


>s, 


{M 


m 


90 


LIFE  AND   LIBERTY   IN   AMERICA 


h^l 


icent  «f)crIrnon»  of  tho  white  man'H  wealth,  prr' ■  r,  and  inge- 
nuity which  their  ey»'H  had  till  that  niunicnt  'lehcld — turned 
'*)cir  lookH  tu  the  IVcsident,  but  made  no  motion  or  f^esture, 
and  uttered  no  sound  expressive  ;ather  of  their  curiosity  or 
the  resjKsct  which  they  evidently  felt,  llic  President's  head 
leans  slightly  on  his  shoulder,  and  this  little  defect,  added  to 
his  kindliness  of  expression  and  his  venerable  white  hair,  gives 
him  the  appearance  of  still  greater  fjenignity,  and  as  if  he 
were  I>ending  his  head  purposely  to  listen  to  the  complaints, 
the  requests,  or  the  felicitations  of  those  who  have  occasion 
to  address  him.  The  four  chiefs  of  the  Pawnees  ;ind  the 
twelve  men  of  the  tribe  were  severally  introduced.  The  Pres- 
ident cordially  shook  hands  with  them,  looking  all  the  time  as 
if  he  really  felt  that  paternal  interest  in  their  character  which 
his  position  commanded,  but  which  he  was  not  able  to  express 
to  them  in  their  own  language.  There  was  one  Indian  of  this 
tribe — a  short  but  well-formed  man,  about  fifty  years  of  age, 
and  deeply  pitted  with  the  small-pox,  who  wore  human  scalps 
after  the  fashion  of  epaulets,  besides  a  whole  breast-plate  of 
such  ghastly  adornments,  and  held  in  his  hand  a  war-club 
thickly  studded  with  brass  nails,  who  was  introduced  by  the 
interpreter  as  the  bravest  of  his  people — the  "plus  brave  des 
braves,"  the  Marshal  Ney  of  his  race — who  had  taken  more 
scalps  than  any  living  Indian.  Upon  this  individual  the 
President  seemed  to  look  with  more  than  common  interest. 
Indeed,  the  eyes  of  all  present  were  directed  toward  this  re- 
doubtable chief;  but  there  was  nothing  forbidding  or  ferocious 
in  his  appearance.  His  face  and  bearing  expressed  stoical  en- 
durance and  resolute  self-reliance,  but  neither  cruelty  nor  cun- 
ning. Thii  Poncas  and  their  chief  went  through  the  same 
ceremony,  and  met  the  same  reception ;  and  even  the  unbid- 
den Pottawatomies  were  welcomed  by  their  "  Great  Father" 
as  kindly  as  if  they  had  been  regularly  invited  to  his  presence, 
Mr.  Buchanan  all  the  while  wearing  that  good-humored  smile 
which  seems  natural  to  him.  It  was  obvious  tbit  he  was 
quite  as  much  interested  in  his  red  children  as  they  were  in 
their  white  father,  a  feeling  that  none  could  help  sharing  who 
was  a  witness  of  the  scene. 


INTERVIEW  or  INDIANS,  ETC. 


91 


The  prcftcntatiuns  over,  the  President  mmlc  a  short  spccrh, 
welcoming  tlie  Indians  to  Washington,  expressing  his  rcadinesH 
to  hear  whatever  thoy  might  have  to  say,  and  redress  any  real 
grievances  of  which  they  might  have  to  complain,  if  they  came 
within  the  scope  of  the  government  to  redress,  and  were  not 
solely  due  to  their  own  faults  and  mismanagement.  This 
being  three  times  translated  by  the  three  several  interpreters — 
for  no  one  of  the  ti  l)ca  understood  the  language  of  the  otl;  r 
—each  tribe  si  '  its  approval :  the  Poncas  by  an  emp^  !iti<^ 

guttural  soun<  "ko  the  peculiar  "Oich  I  oich!"   '»  tini 

Highlanders  (  the  Pawnees  by  the  exclamation  of 

"  Lowar  I"  and  cwatomics  by  a  short  "  Ugh  I  ugh  I" 

And  now  began  th*  speech-making  in  reply  to  the  Pres- 
ident's invitation.  The  four  chiefs  of  the  Pawnees,  one  chief 
of  the  Poncas,  and  one  of  the  Pottawatomies,  expressed  in  suc- 
cession the  object  of  their  journey  to  "Washington.  The  Paw- 
nees had  come  to  ratify  a  treaty  already  made  with  the  gov- 
ernment, to  see  their  "  Great  Father,"  to  learn  from  him  how 
to  grow  rich  like  white  men,  and  no  longer  to  be  "  poor." 
The  Poncas  had  come  to  make  a  treaty  for  the  sale  of  their 
lands  in  Nebraska,  to  look  with  their  own  eyes  upon  their 
"  Great  Father,"  whom  they  judged  by  the  splendor  around 
him  to  be  rich,  and  to  be  visibly  favored  by  the  "  Great 
Spirit."  The  Pottawatomies  had  come  ujibidden  to  request 
that  an  allowance,  paid  to  them  semi-annually  by  treaty, 
should  be  paid  annually,  to  save  trouble.  All  the  spokesmen 
dwelt  upon  their  poverty  and  wretchedness.  Some  of  them 
held  up  their  arms  and  exposed  their  bosoms  to  show  that 
they  were  naked.  They  wanted  to  be  taught  how  to  be  rich ; 
to  earn,  like  the  white  man,  the  favor  of  the  Great  Spirit,  and 
no  longer  to  be  poor.  Poverty— extreme  poverty — was  the 
key-note  of  their  lamentations,  the  mournful  burden  of  their 
whole  song.  "  We  are,"  said  one  of  them,  looking  right  into 
the  eye  of  the  President,  and  approaching  so  near  that  \m 
breath  must  have  felt  warm  on  Mr.  Buchanan's  cheek  as  he 
spoke,  "  the  children  of  the  Great  Spirit  as  much  as  you  are. 
We  have  traveled  a  long  distance  to  see  you.  At  first  we  trav- 
eled slowly.     At  every  place  we  stopped  we  expected  to  find 


n 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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23  WeST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14S80 

(716)  872-4503 


92 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


you.  Wo  inquired  of  the  people,  and  they  told  ub  you  were  a 
long  way  off.  We  have  found  you  at  last,  and  we  are  glad. 
We  see  by  these  things"  (pointing  to  the  gilded  walls,  to  the 
carpets,  and  the  curtains)  *<  that  you  are  rich..  We  were  rich 
in  the  days  that  are  past.  We  were  once  the  favorites  of  the 
Great  Spirit.  The  very  ground  on  which  we  now  stand" 
(and  the  orator,  for  such  he  was,  stamped  significantly  with 
his  feet  upon  the  carpet  as  he  spoke)  "  once  belonged  to  our 
fathers.  Now  we  are  poor — ^we  are  very  poor.  We  have 
nothing  to  shelter  us  from  the  cold.  We  are  driven  from  our 
possessions;  and  we  are  hungry.  We  have  come  to  you  to 
help  us.  The  Great  Spirit,  through  the  mouth  of  the-*  Great 
Father,*  will  speak  to  us,  and  tell  us  what  we  are  to  do.  Let 
us  be  rich,  like  the  white  man,  and  be  poor  no  longer." 

Such  was  their  melancholy  and  invariable  supplication.  At 
every  repetition  of  the  word  "  poor" — ^when  translated  in  the 
hardest,  coldest,  boldest  manner  by  the  interpreters — there  was 
a  laugh  among  a  portion  of  the  white  spectators,  who  should 
have  known  better — ^a  laugh  that  seemed  to  me  grievously  out 
of  place,  and  which  somewhat  perplexed  the  poor  Indians,  as 
was  evident  by  the  surprise  expressed  upon  their  faces.  To 
them  their  poverty  was  no  laughing  matter.  They  had  come 
to  Washington  purposely  to  speak  of  it.  In  their  simplicity 
of  heart,  they  believed  that  the  President  had  it  in  his  power 
to  remove  it,  and  they  had  lost  faith  in  their  own  customs, 
manners,  and  modes  of  life,  to  keep  them  on  a  level  with  the 
white  men ;  and  why  should  they  be  laughed  at?  The  Pres- 
ident gave  them  excellent  advice.  He  told  them  that  they 
always  would  be  poor  as  long  as  they  subsisted  by  the  chase ; 
that  the  way  to  be  wealthy  was  to  imitate  the  industry  of  the 
white  men — to  plow  the  land,  to  learn  the  arts  of  the  black- 
smith, the  carpenter,  the  builder,  and  the  miller ;  and,  above 
all  things,  to  cease  their  constant  wars  upon  each  other.  "  I 
learn,"  he  added,  "  that  the  Pawnees  and  Poncas  now  present 
are  deadly  enemies.  It  is  my  wish,  and  that  of  the  Great 
Spirit  who  implanted  it  in  my  breast,  that  they  should  be  en- 
emies no  more ;  that,  in  my  presence,  they  should  shake  hands 
in  token  of  peace  and  friendship."     This  was  explained  to 


teJ. 


INTERVIEW  OP  INDIANS,  ETC. 


93 


them  by  the  interpreters.  The  enemies  made  no  sign  of  us- 
ftcnt  or  dissent  beyond  the  usual  guttural  expression  of  their 
satisfaction.  "I  wish,'*  said  the  President,  "to  join  your 
hands  together,  and  that  the  peace  between  you  should  be  per- 
petual." The  chiefs  of  the  hostile  tribes  advanced,  and  shook 
hands,  first  with  the  President,  and  then  with  each  other. 
One  man  only  gave  the  left  hand  to  his  former  enemy;  but 
this  was  explained  by  the  interpreter,  who  stated  that  the 
right  hand  was  withheld  by  the  Pawnee  because  it  had  slain 
the  brother  of  the  Ponca,  but  that  the  new  friendship  between 
the  two  would  be  equally  as  sacred  as  if  the  right  hand  had 
affirmed  it.  ••..«; 

"  Will  they  keep  the  peace  t**  inquired  a  gentleman  of  the 
President. 

"  I  firmly  believe  they  will,'*  replied  Mr.  Buchanan.  "  A 
peace  ratified  in  the  presence  of  the  *  Great  Father*  is  more 
than  usually  sacred."  And  in  this  opinion  he  was  corrobo- 
rated by  each  of  the  three  interpreters. 

And  so  ended  the  ceremony.  I  have  seen  much  of  the  In- 
dians during  my  stay  in  Washington — seen  them  at  the  the- 
atre, looking  intently  and  inquiringly  at  the  pirouettes  of 
Signora  Teresa  BoUa,  a  celebrated  danseuse  now  here — seen 
them  in  the  streets  and  thorough&res  looking  vacantly  around 
them,  and  seen  them  at  the  Arsenal,  receiving  from  the  hands 
of  General  Floyd,  the  Secretary  at  War,  the  rifles  and  the 
muskets  which  are  given  to  them  as  presents  by  the  govern- 
ment before  they  return  to  the  wilderness.  On  each  occasion 
I  have  been  much  impressed  with  the  native  r'ignity  and  in- 
telligence of  these  poor  people.  But  their  doom  is  fixed. 
Between  them  and  the  whites  there  is  no  possible  fraterniza- 
tion. The  white  men  who  act  as  the  pioneers  of  civilization, 
and  push  their  way  into  the  far  wilderness,  are  ruder,  rougher, 
and  more  ferocious  than  the  Indians.  Between  them  there  is 
constant  animosity ;  and  the  red  men,  being  the  weaker  of  the 
two,  stand  no  chance  with  their  white  assailants,  who  shoot 
them  ruthlessly  down  for  small  offenses,  punish  slight  robbery 
with  death,  and  bring  whisky  and  rum  to  the  service  of  de- 
struction when  readier  means  are  found  to  be  unattainable. 


"xi 


94 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


frff 

I'    Mi 


If,  '1/ 


Tho  red  men  nro  fast  disappearing:  only  314,622  of  them, 
little  more  than  half  the  number  of  the  population  of  Phila- 
delphia, remain  in  tho  territories  of  the  Uniied  States ;  and 
these  are  rapidly  diminishing  from  small-pox,  internecine  war, 
and  the  rifles  and  the  whisky-bottles  of  the  whites  : 

'*  Slowly  and  sadly  they  climb  the  western  mountains, 
And  read  their  doom  in  tho  departing  sun." 

In  Mexico  and  in  South  America  they  still  thrive,  or  in- 
crease, and  amalgamate  and  intermarry  with  the  European 
races ;  but  in  the  United  States  and  Canada,  where  the  An- 
glo-Saxon race  predominates,  they  will  in  a  few  years  disap- 
pear altogether  from  the  land  which  was  once  their  own,  and 
leave  no  trace  behind  them  but  the  names  of  a  few  rivers 
and  mountains,  and  here  and  there  of  a  state  that  takes  on 
Indian  appellation  in  default  of  an  Anglo-Saxon  one — such  as 
Minnesota,  Iowa,  Kansas,  Wisconsin,  and  Michigan.  Their 
fate  is  inevitable,  but  is  none  the  less  sad.  The  ancient  Brit- 
ons survive  in  their  progeny,  but  the  aborigines  of  North  Amer- 
ica are  dying  out,  and  their  blood  will  form  no  portion  of  that 
great  republic  which  is  so  rapidly  rising  to  overshadow  the 
world. 

During  the  stay  of  the  Indians  at  Washington,  public  noti- 
fication was  made  by  bills  and  placards,  and  privately  to  the 
keepers  of  the  hotels  and  spirit-shops,  that  no  intoxicating  liq- 
uors should  be  served  to  them,  and  that  gentleri  v/ould  re- 
frain from  treating  them.  The  notification  was  u«ic  otless  very 
necessary.  In  company  with  Mr.  Charles  Lanman,  of  George- 
town, I  paid  the  Poncas  and  the  Pawnees  a  visit  at  their  ho- 
tels. I  was  received  on  both  occasions  with  much  courtesy, 
the  chiefs  presenting  their  hands  in  American  fashion,  and 
shaking  mine  very  heartily.  They  seemed  to  pass  their  time 
in  smoking,  pla3dng  cards,  or  mending  their  le^ns  and  moc- 
casins. Wa-ga-suppe,  or  the  Whtp^  the  Ponca  chief,  gave  us 
some  particulars  of  his  life,  which  were  translated  to  us  by 
the  interpreter. 

He  said  he  was  born  on  Middle  River,  in  the  Territory  of 
Nebraska,  and  was  about  fifty-six  years  of  age.  "  The  first 
creature  he  killed,  when  a  mere  child,  was  a  ground  squirrel. 


INTERVIEW   OF  INDIANS,  ETC. 


05 


and  ho  hnd  killed,  since  that  time,  at  least  ten  thousand  buf- 
luloes.  He  always  aimed  at  the  heart ;  frequently  one  arrow 
caused  death,  but  ho  had  often  sent  ton  arrows  into  a  buffalo 
without  killing  him.  lie  had  sometimes  sent  an  arrow  light 
through  a  buflalo's  neck.  IIo  once  killed  a  perfectly  whito 
buffalo,  and  never  saw  but  this  one.  lie  always  hunted  these 
animals  on  horseback.  Once  he  and  another  man  went  after 
the  same  animal,  because  it  was  large  and  fat.  He  was  ahead, 
but  his  companion  shot  and  wounded  the  animal ;  ho  was  an- 
gry, and  in  his  desperation  took  out  his  knife,  and  while  on 
the  run  seized  the  animal's  horns  and  cut  its  throat.  On  an- 
other occasion  ho  had  d  horse  killed  under  him  by  an  angry 
bull,  the  body  of  the  horse  having  been  ripped  open  by  one 
horn,  while  the  other  went  through  his  own  leg.  At  another 
time,  when  pursuing  a  buffalo  toward  a  deep  river,  where  the 
bank  was  twenty  feet  high  and  abrupt,  the  buffalo  made  a  sud- 
den turn,  and  at  the  very  instant  that  he  shot  an  arrow — 
which  killed  it — the  horse  which  he  rode,  alarmed  by  the  buf- 
falo's roar,  leaped  into  the  river  and  was  drowned.  lie  him- 
self was  not  injured." 

But  his  exploits  as  a  hunter  were  surpassed  by  his  deeds  as 
a  horse-thief.  The  people  whom  he  chiefly  robbed  of  their 
horses  were  Pawnees  and  Comanches.  "He  had  traveled  a 
thousand  miles  upon  one  of  these  expeditions — been  gone  a 
hundred  and  twenty  days,  and  captured  or  stolen  six  hundred 
horses.  He  never  sold  a  horse,  but  always  made  it  a  point  to 
give  them  to  the  poor,  the  old,  and  the  feeble  of  his  tribe.  It 
was  his  cunning  in  stealing  horses,  and  his  liberality  in  giving 
them  away,  that  caused  him  to  be  elected  chief.  Ho  and  his 
party  once  traveled  five  hundred  miles  simply  for  the  purpose 
of  stealing  a  spotted  horse  of  which  he  had  heard,  and  he  got 
the  prize.  He  had  had  five  wives :  one  died,  he  abandoned 
three  for  their  infidelity,  and  one  he  still  cherished.  He  had 
been  the  father  of  eleven  children.  The  prairie  was  his  home. 
The  summer  lodges  of  his  tribe  arc  made  of  buffalo  skins ; 
those  which  they  inhabit  in  the  winter  are  made  of  turf.  He 
had  never  been  sick  a  day.  He  had  never  been  afraid  to  risk 
his  life,  but  always  disliked  to  kill  human  beings.     He  had 


\  ■  -'i 


:.■  ■.m 


96 


LIFE  AND  LIBEIVTY  IN  AMERICA. 


^  t  (i*j( 


never  killed  but  one  man,  and  the  circumstances  were  these : 
ho  had  been  four  days  without  food  on  a  horse-stealing  expe- 
dition when  he  came  to  a  deserted  I'awnee  village.  Ho  was 
disgusted,  and  hunger  filled  him  with  hate  and  revenge.  At 
that  moment  he  discovered  a  solitary  Pawnee  approaching  the 
village.  He  shot  him  down,  and,  after  scalping  him  and 
breaking  his  neck,  out  of  pure  wickedness,  he  left  him  thus 
exposed,  by  way  of  letting  the  Pawnees  know,  on  their  return, 
that  he  had  been  there." 

On  questioning  him  about  his  ideas  of  a  future  state,  he 
said  that  he  expected  to  go,  after  death,  to  the  white  man's 
heaven.     "  There  was  but  one  heaven  for  all  men." 

The  Pawnee  chief,  whom  we  visited  at  another  part  of  the 
city,  said  his  name  was  Ne-sharo-lad-a-hoo,  or  the  Big  Chief. 
"  He  did  not  know  where  he  was  bom,  but  it  was  somewhere 
in  the  Territory  of  Kansas.  He  was  about  sixty  years  old. 
He  had  never  been  much  of  a  hunter :  his  people  called  him 
too  lazy  and  fat  for  a  huntsman.  He  claimed  to  be  very 
brave,  however,  and  had  devoted  his  whole  life  to  horse-steal- 
ing ;  had  been  twelve  days  without  food,  and  the  illness  which 
followed  that  abstinence  was  very  severe;  he  was  delirious 
with  hunger,  and  that  was  the  only  time  he  had  known  what 
it  was  to  be  sick.  He  had  been  the  husband  of  four  women, 
and  the  best  of  them  all  was  one  he  had  stolen.  He  had 
taken  four  scalps  during  his  life.  He  once  entered  a  Mexican 
encampment  at  night  when  all  were  asleep,  and,  'just  for  the 
fun  of  it,'  walked  entirely  through,  and  carried  off  thirty 
horses."  When  asked  what  he  would  have  done  if  he  had 
been  discovered,  he  said,  "  he  would  have  put  an  arrow  into 
every  eye  that  opened."  One  of  the  scalps  he  had  taken  be- 
longed to  a  Ponca,  and  the  only  brother  of  the  man  he  had 
killed  was  one  of  those  who  stepped  up  and  shook  hands  with 
him  in  the  presence  of  the  President.  In  speaking  of  his  peo- 
ple, this  man  said  that  they  had  once  been  notorious  for  their 
cruelty.  In  illustration  of  this,  he  said,  "  When  we  took  a 
handsome  girl  as  prisoner,  we  kept  her  for  a  few  weeks,  and 
treated  her  well ;  but  after  a  certain  time  wo  tied  her  to  a 
stake,  had  a  great  feast  and  much  dancing,  and  then  burned 


!?■  : 


INTERVIEW  OF  INDIANS,  ETC. 


97 


her  to  death.  Some  of  us  cut  ofT  pieces  of  her  flesh,  and  the 
boys  of  the  tribe  shot  into  her  body  little  arrows  made  of 
prairie  grass.  But  this  was  long  ago,  and  it  was  very  bad. 
Our  people  thought  it  would  please  the  Great  Spirit ;  but  we 
are  wiser  now." 

The  truth  was,  they  were  frightened  out  of  this  horrible 
practice  by  being  told  that  the  small-pox  by  which  they  had 
once  been  scoui'ged  was  sent  by  the  Great  Spirit  as  a  punish- 
ment for  such  wickedness.  These  people  hardly  know  the  use 
of  a  canoe,  but  journey  exclusively  on  horseback.  ITiis  man 
told  us  he  had  known  several  persons  who  had  been  scalped 
and  yet  survived.  Such  men,  however,  were  always  consid- 
ered disgraced,  and  they  had  a  tradition  that  all  such  men 
congregated  in  some  distant  country  and  lived  in  caves.  Like 
the  Comanches  and  Blackfcct  Indians,  the  Pawnees  have  but 
few  friends  among  the  prairie  tribes. 

The  following  official  statement — the  latest  published  by  the 
United  States  government — ogives  the  names  of  all  the  Indian 
tribes  left  within  the  limits  of  the  Union,  their  place  of  loca- 
tion, and  their  numbers,  as  estimated  by  the  Indian  agents 
and  other  officials : 


Name  of  Tribe. 


Apaches 

Apaches 

Apaches 

Assinaboincs 

Arickarees 

Arrapahoes 

Anadahkoes,  Caddocs,  and  Ionics 

Blackfeet 

Cherokees 

Cherokees 


Choctaws 

Choctaws 

Chickasaws 

Creeks 

Creeks 

Chippewas  of  Lake  Superior 

Chippewas  of  Lake  Superi 
Chippewas  of  Lake  Superior. 
Chippewas  of  the  Mississippi . 


rior ) 

rior [■ 

rior ) 


Na  of 
Sonls. 


7,000 

320 
3,360 

800 
3,000 

500 

7,500 

17,530 

2,200 

16,000 
1,000 
4,787 

25,000 
100 

4,940 

2,206 


Place  of  Kesidence. 


New  Mexico  Territorj'. 
Texas. 

Arkansas  River. 
Upper  Missouri  River. 

do. 
Arkansas  and  Platte  Rivers. 
Texas. 

Upper  Missouri  River. 
West  of  Arkansas. 
North  Carolina,  Tennessee, 
Georgia,  and  Alabama. 
West  of  Arkansas. 
Mississippi. 
West  of  Arkansas. 

do. 
Alabama. 
(  Michigan. 
<  Wisconsin. 
(  Minnesota  Territory. 

do. 


"^ ':. 


\ 


) . 


f 


K 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTT  IN  AlIERICA. 


Name  of  Tribe. 


Chippewai  and  OtUwas , 

Chippewas  of  Saginaw , 

Chippewas  of  Swan  Creek,  etc 

Chippewas  of  Swan  Creek,  etc. 

Cayugas 

Catawbas , 

Christians  or  Munsees 

Crows 

Crees 

Caddoes 

Comanchcs  and  Kioways 

Comanches 

Comanches 

Cheyennes 

California  Tribes 

Delawares 

GroB  Ventres , 

lonies 

lowas 

Kickapoos 

Kickapoos 

Eioways 

tooways 

Kansas 

Keechies,  Wacoes,  and  Towacarros 

Kaskaskias 

Lipans 

Miamis 

Miamis 

Mandans 

Minatares 

Menomonees 

Missoorias 

Munsees 

Kuscaleros  or  Apaches 

Kavtyoes 

Oneidas 

•  Oneidas 

Onondagas 

Ottawas 

Ottawas 

'  Omahas 

Ottoes  and  Missonrias 

Osages 

Oregon  Territory  Tribes 

Foncas 

Pottawatomies 

Pottawatomies  of  Huron 

Pottawatomies 

Pawnees 


No.  of 
SouU. 


5,1S2 

1,840 

188 

88 

148 

200 

44 

8,860 

800 

20,000 

8,600 

2,800 

88,589 

902 

760 

483 
844 


2,806 

1,870 

800 

660 
207 
868 
260 
2,600 
1,980 


400 
7,600 
249 
978 
470 

249 

800 

600 

4,098 

13,000 

700 

286 

46 

3,440 

4,000 


Pluoe  of  Besideaee. 


<l 


Michigan. 

do. 

do. 
Kansas  Territory. 
New  York. 

North  and  South  Carolina. 
Kansas  Territory. 
Upper  Missouri  River. 

do. 
Texas. 

do. 
New  Mexico  Territory.    \ 
Arkansas  River. 
Arkansas  and  Platte  Rivers. 
California. 
Kansas  Territory. 
Upper  Missouri  River. 
Texas. 
Kansas  Territory. 

do. 
Texas  border. 
Texas. 

Arkansas  River. 
Kansas  Territory. 
Texas. 

Kansas  Territory. 
Texas. 

Kansas  Territory. 
Indiana. 
Upper  Missouri  River. 

do. 
Wisconsin. 
Nebraska  Territory. 
Kansas  Territory. 
Texas. 

New  Mexico  Territory, 
New  York. 
Wisconsin. 
New  York.  ^ ' 

Michigan. 
Kansas  Territory. 
Nebraska  Territory. 

do. 
West  of  Arkansas. 
Oregon  Territory. 
Nebraska  Territory. 
Michigan. 

do. 
Kansas  Territory. 
Nebraska  Territory. 


\' 


INTERVIEW  OF  INDIANS,  ETC. 


99 


Mum  of  Tribe. 

rUnkethAws,  Weas,  PcoHm,  and 
KaskMkiM 

Fneblo  Indians 

Quapaws 

Stockbridges 

Stockbridges 

Sioux  of  the  MisHissippi 

Sioux  of  the  Missouri 

Sioux  of  the  Plains 

St.  Regis  Indians 

Senecas 

Senecas  (Sandusky) 

Senecas  and  Shawnccs(Lewistown) 

Shawnees 

Sacs  and  Foxes  of  Mississippi.... 

Sacs  and  Foxes  of  Missouri 

Seminolcs 

Seminoles 

Tuscaroras 

Towaccaros ...; 

Tonkawas 

Utah  Territory  Tribes 

Utahs 

Wacoes 

Wichitas 

Weas 

Winnebagoes 

Winnebagoes 

Wyandots 

Washington  Territory  Tribes 

Wandering  Indians  of  Comanches, 

Cheyenne,  and  other  tribes 

Total  number 


Naof 
BottU. 


riAM  of  RMidenee. 


220 

10,000 

814 

18 

240 

6,888 

15,440 

5,600 

460 

2,657 

180 

271 

861 

1,626 

180 

2,600 

600 

•280 

400 

12,000 

2,600 

050 

2,646 

208 

664 

14,000 

17,000 


Kansas  Territory. 
Now  Mexico  Territory. 
West  of  Arkansas. 
Kansas  Territory. 
Wisconsin. 
Minnesota  Territory. 
Unpor  Missouri  River. 
Platte  nnd  Arkansas  Rivers. 
New  York. 

do. 
West  of  Arkansas.  » 

do. 
Kansas  Territory. 

do. 

do. 

West  of  Arkansas. 
Florida. 
New  York. 
Texas. 

do. 
Utoh  Tcrrito^. 
New  Mexico  Territory. 
Texas. 

do.  .  , 

Kansas  Territory. 
Minnesota  Territory. 
Kansas  Territory. 

do. 
Washington  Territory. 

New  Mexico  Territory. 


314,622 


^■ 


ti 


1    >  n 


H 

ii 


i 


,'* 


-I 


100 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMjCBICjL 


CHAPTER  Xra. 

AMERIOAMISMS  AMD  AMERICAN  8LAMO. 

Evert  country  has  its  own  slang  or  '^  argot,"  though  it  is 
not  every  language  that  has  a  word  to  express  this  particular 
form  of  the  ultra-vulgar  vernacular.  American  slang  is  more 
interesting  to  an  educated  Englishman  than  the  slang  of  Franco, 
Germany  or  any  other  country.  The  slang  of  ancient  Greece 
and  Rome,  with  the  exception  of  a  very  few  words  imperfectly 
understood,  is  lost  to  the  modems,  or  it  might  perhaps  interest 
us  as  greatly  as  the  classical  speech  which  has  come  down  to 
us,  for  the  new  light  it  might  throw  upon  the  manners,  char- 
acteristics, and  domestic  life  of  the  ancient  peoples.  But  as 
this  is  no  longer  a  possible  subject  of  study  for  the  learned 
or  unlearned,  and  as  slang  at  home  is  unhappily  too  familiar 
to  be  considered  of  any  importance,  the  peculiar  idioms,  per- 
versions, and  revivals  of  words  in  common  use  among  our 
American  cousins,  striking  us  by  their  novelty,  acquire  by 
that  means  a  certain  sort  of  dignity,  and  become  valuable  to 
the  student  both  of  history  and  literature.  They  show  the 
up-springings  and  germinations  of  language.  They  prove  how 
much  points  of  difference  in  national  character,  and  even  cli- 
mate and  accidental  circumstances  of  politics  or  trade,  can 
influence  and  change  the  well-established  words  of  the  dic- 
tionary ;  how  a  noun,  verb,  or  adjective,  without  being  in  the 
least  degree  changed  in  its  pronunciation,  can  insensibly  glide 
into  a  meaning  totally  diifc  rent  from  that  with  which  it  was 
originally  associated ;  and  how  new  words  are  coined,  and  are 
always  coinable  by  and  under  new  circumstances.  In  these 
respects,  the  study  even  of  "  slang"  is  profitable,  whether  the 
student  be  n  nhilosopher  in  the  largest  sense  of  the  word,  or 
merely  a  piiiiuiogist.  Et3rmology  is  a  fiery  and  often  unman- 
ageable hobby-horse  to  ride,  but  those  who  ride  it  wisely  may 
do  good  service.     During  my  residence  in  America,  I  noted 


AMERICANISM  d  AND  AMERICAN  8LAN0. 


101 


down  from  day  to  day  not  only  tho  single  words  and  fonni 
of  expression,  but  tho  phrases  used  both  by  educated  and  un- 
educated men  with  whom  I  held  conversation,  and  also  the 
idioms  in  books  and  newspapers  which  grated  harshly  or 
sounded  strangely  to  my  English  ears.  To  those  I  added 
words  which,  if  not  ungraceful  and  vulgar  in  themselves,  had 
a  flavor  of  novelty  and  foreignness.  A  few  of  these  wonln 
have  been  introduced  from  America  into  England,  and  huvo 
a  positive  value  for  expressing  tersely  the  complicated  ideas 
which,  without  their  aid,  could  not  have  been  forcibly  render- 
ed in  any  other  way.  Others,  again,  derived  from  Dutch, 
German,  or  Spanish  roots,  although  they  huvc  no  individiuU 
merit  to  recommend  them  to  the  estimation  of  the  Knglisti 
scholar,  stand  as  simple  Americanisms,  with  such  justification 
OS  geography  can  afford  them.  And  how  much  geographical 
distances,  even  small,  can  influence  and  change  a  noble  lan- 
guage, we  may  see  by  the  study  of  the  varieties  of  English 
spoken  in  such  slightly  divergent  localities  as  London,  Corn- 
wall, Newcastle,  Wales,  Ireland,  Edinburgh,  and  Aberdeen. 

Tlie  "  Great  West"  of  tho  United  States— the  home  of  the 
hardiest  and  roughest  population,  and  which  contains  the 
largest  admixture  of  the  foreign  i*aces  of  Europe — is  the  birth- 
place of  the  greatest  number  of  new  words.  But  even  here 
the  new  words  are  more  commonly  revivals  of  local  and  pro- 
vincial Anglo-Saxon  and  Anglo-Scandinavian  words  still  in 
use  in  tho  rural  districts  of  England,  although  they  have 
dropped  out  of  polite  life  and  literature,  than  ''  annexations'* 
from  an  entirely  foreign  source.  When  we  see  in  our  clas- 
sical England  itself — m  here,  if  any  where,  the  best  and  purest 
English  ought  to  be  spoken — the  growth  and  acceptance  of 
such  a  word  as  "  starvation,"  and  of  another  that  has  not  an 
equal  antiquity  to  recommend  it — the  odious  but  fashionable 
word  in  Parliament  and  newspapers,  "  to  *  ventilate*  a  sub- 
ject," we  can  not  be  surprised  that  in  the  New  World  the  old 
language  should  partake  of  the  colors  of  the  clime,  and  un- 
dergo transformations  more  or  less  decided.  "  Humbug"  has 
become  a  good  word  by  virtue  of  time  and  possession ;  and 
for  the  same  reason,  ^Uo  Bamumize**  may  finally  become 


102 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTT  IN  AMKRICA. 


naturalized  on  both  oidcH  of  tho  Atlantic,  and  exprees  the  ac- 
tion of  him  who  would  resort  to  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  all  poesi- 
ble  humbug  fur  the  filling  of  his  pockets  at  the  expense  of  the 
public.  Valuable  is  any  one  word  which  con  be  made  to  ex- 
press an  idea  so  complicated. 

First  of  all,  I  cite  a  few  words  that  have  lost  in  America 
their  original  English  meaning. 

To  exerciae  means  to  agitate,  vex,  or  trouble.  Tlius  it  is 
said  of  a  senator  in  Congress  that  ho  is  exercised  by  the  great 

question  he  is  about  to  bring  forward,  or  that  Mr. was 

much  exercised  by  an  attack  upon  him  in  a  newspaper. 

Bright  means  <<  clever."  A  clever  man,  or  a  man  of  talent, 
would  in  America  be  called  a  "  bright"  man. 

Clever  means  "  amiable  and  courteous."  A  "  clever"  cap- 
tain is  one  who  is  friendly,  attentive,  and  polite  to  his  passen- 
gers. Among  the  recommendations  sometimes  advertised  in 
the  Mississippi  and  Ohio  steam-boats  is  that  the  captain  and 
clerk  arc  the  "  cleverest"  on  the  line,  and  for  this  reason  agree- 
able to  the  ladies. 

Amiable  means  ''  stupid."  A  member  of  the  House  of  Rep- 
resentatives, and  a  most  worthy  man,  was  highly  offended  at 
hearing  his  friend  called  ''  amiable"  by  an  Englishman.  He 
thought  the  phrase  implied  a  reproach  or  a  sneer,  and  de- 
clared that  the  word  "  amiable"  was  synonymous  with  what 
in  English  slang  is  called  "  spooney."  "  You  may  call  a  wom- 
an *  amiable,' "  said  he,  "  but  not  a  man." 

Skinjlinti  which  in  England  signifies  "over-sensitive,"  in 
America  means  "  stingy  and  parsimonious." 

Smart  means  "  sharp."  A  smart  man  is  one  who  would  do 
a  dishonest  act  in  business  if  he  could  manage  to  keep  on  the 
safe  side  and  avoid  the  law. 

Among  the  pure  Americanisms  may  be  cited  the  follow- 
ing: 

To  honeyfuglCj  to  gloze,  flatter,  bamboozle,  or  "  take  in." 

High  falutin  or  high  verlooten  signifies  high-flown,  exag- 
gerated, and  bombastic  in  speech  or  writing. 

To  loaf,  to  idle  or  dawdle. 

A  loafer,  a  dawdler  or  idler. 


tl         V 


AMERICANISMS  AND  AMIRICAN  SLANG. 


108 


Splurgty  a  display,  an  outbunt  of  expenditure,  such  m  to 
create  a  sensation  among  the  by-standera  or  witneraes.     " 

To  make  a  splurge  may  be  rendered  by  the  common  English 
vulgarinm,  "  to  cut  a  dash/* 

To  cave  m,  to  give  way,  to  coUapsc. 

To  stumpt  to  address  public  meetings  in  the  open  air— 41 
phrase  derived  from  the  fact  that  popular  orators  in  most  cir- 
cumstances often  stand  on  stumps  of  trees,  as  the  most  avail- 
able platforms. 

To  stump  a  stattf  to  go  on  a  tour  of  political  agitation  through 
a  state. 

Piat/orm,  the  recognized  principles  and  creed  of  a  political 
party.  This  phrase  is  of  English  origin,  and  is  to  be  found 
in  the  political  tracts  and  in  the  sermons  of  the  days  of  Crom- 
welL 

A  plank  of  the  piat/orm^  one  principle  out  of  the  ror.ny 
agreed  upon  by  a  party. 

Buncombe  or  Bunkum.  A  diffuse  and  ungry  orator  having 
made  a  somewhat  irrational  and  very  unnecessary  speech  in 
the  House  of  Representatives  at  Washington  where  nobody 
thought  it  worth  while  to  contradict  him,  was  afterward  ask- 
ed by  a  friend  who  met  him  in  Pennsylvania  Avenue  why  he 
had  made  such  a  display'?  '^  I  was  not  speaking  to  the  House,'* 
he  replied;  "I  was  speaking  to  Buncombe" — a  county  oi 
district  by  the  majority  of  whose  votes  he  had  been  elected. 
Hence  Buncombe  or  Bunkum  has  become  a  phrase  in  Amer- 
ica, and,  to  some  extent,  in  England  also,  to  express  that 
extra  parliamentary  oratory  which  appeals  to  the  passions  or 
prejudices  of  the  outside  people,  or  sections  of  the  people,  and 
not  to  the  reason  and  sound  sense  of  a  deliberative  assembly* 

To  vamosCf  to  decamp  or  vanislu 

PiVtf,  a  fortune. 

To  make  a  pile,  to  make  a  fortune. 

Swanger,  a  dandy  or  "  swell." 

A  muss,  a  slight  quarrel  or  disturbance. 

A  cuss,  a  curse — applied  to  a  person. 

A  mean  cuss,  a  cursedly  mean  person. 

Mung,  sham,  false,  pretended. 


..  (■ 


'ttfei 


104 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


il/un^  news,  a  fabrication.  ■      '  *        ,p 

Bendery  a  spree.        ' 

To  go  on  a  bender,  to  go  on  a  spree.  "'• 

Tojix,  to  dress,  to  adorn,  to  trim.  The  phrase  is  applied 
either  to  the  human  figure,  as  when  a  lady  says  she  will  "  fix 
herself;"  or  to  an  article  of  attire,  as  when  she  says  her  cap, 
her  bonnet,  or  dress,  has  been  "  fixed"  or  ornamented  ;  or  to  a 
dish  for  the  table,  as  to  "  fix"  a  steak  with  onions — a  chicken 
with  mushrooms,  etc. 

Fixings^  trimmings,  adornments.  * 

CaiicuSf  a  preliminary  political  meeting,  and  gathering  to- 
gether of  the  party,  to  decide  upon  ulterior  movements. 

To  lobby,  to  use  private  influence  for  the  passing  of  bills 
through  the  Legislature. 

Grit,  tJie  real  grit,  the  true  grit.  These  words  or  phrases  are 
used  to  signify  a  person  of  superior  worth,  solidity,  and  genu- 
ineness,  as  distinguished  from  another  who  is  inferior,  or  merely 
"  chaff."    The  miller  is  evidently  the  parent  of  this  expression. 

Declension  "  I  have  been  writing,"  said  a  lady,  "  several  de- 
clensions to  dinners  and  balls."  The  word  is  equivalent  to  re- 
fusal, but  it  seems  to  mean  refusal  for  reasons  assigned — a  de- 
clinature. 

Bogm,  false  or  shamj  said  to  be  derived  from  the  name  of 
a  man  notorious  for  issuing  counterfeit  notes.  Hence  "  bogus" 
news,  a  "  bogus"  meeting,  a  "  bogus"  baby,  a  "  bogus"  senator, 
a  "  bogus"  convention. 

To  foot  a  bill,  to  sign  or  accept  bill. 

Whole-souled,  a  very  common  phrase  in  America  to  express 
a  hearty  enthusiastic  person.  In  "  Lloyd's  Railway  Guide," 
the  Bradshaw  of  America,  it  is  stated  of  one  of  the  hotels  in  a 
principal  city  that  "  Colonel ,  the  proprietor,  is  a  whole- 
souled  landlord." 

Fits.  To  "give  a  man  fits"  is  an  expression  continually 
used,  and  seems  to  mean,  to  assault,  or  give  a  man  a  disagree- 
able surprise,  either  by  words  or  by  blows,  or  by  a  public  ex- 
posure. 

Jesse.  To  "  give  Jesse"  or  "  particular  Jesse"  are  phrases 
equivalent  to  the  preceding. 


AMERICANISMS  AND  AMERICAN  SLANG. 


105 


Bim.     Hit  him  Wot  in  the  eye — i.  *.,  right  in  the  <^e. 

Realize — RecUizing.  It  is  a  favorite  pulpit  phrase  to  say  that 
a  person  has  a  "  realizing  sense  of  the  goodness  of  God.'* 

Depots  a  railway  station. 

Fizzle^  a  slight  quarrel  or  controversy. 

A  stampede,  a  rush,  a  multitudinous  exit. 

Socdologer,  a  knock-down  blow.  There  is  a  species  of  fish- 
hook of  this  name. 

To  overslaugh,  a  word  apparently  derived  from  the  German 
or  old  English,  like  onslaught,  and  signifying  to  strike  over. 

Rocks,  money — a  Califomian  phrase.  ^ '' 

To  squirm,  to  wriggle  like  a  worm.  ■ 

To  tote,  to  carry. 

To  tote  the  plunder,  a  slang  phrase  for  "  carry  the  luggage." 

To  wilt,  to  wither. 

Wilted,  withered. 

Ge-a-headative,  progressive,  "  fast." 

A  doughface,  a  man  easily  moved  to  change  his  opinion ;  a 
person  to  be  wrought  upon  and  modeled  to  any  particular 
shape,  like  a  piece  of  dough. 

Boss,  a  master ;  "  a  boss  barber,"  "  a  boss  butcher,"  are 
common  expressions. 

Shyster,  a  blackguard. 

Cracker,  a  biscuit. 

Nut  anvil,  a  nut-cracker. 

In  all  great  American  cities  there  are,  as  there  are  in  the 
cities  of  Europe,  rude  youths,  who  vent  the  exuberance  of  their 
animal  spirits  in  acta  of  daring  that  too  often  savor  of  what 
might  not  unjustly  be  called  blackguardism.  But  in  America 
such  persons  are  of  more  importance  in  the  social  scale  than 
they  are  with  us,  for  they  have  votes  if  they  have  reached  the 
age  of  twenty-one,  and  they  have  aggregate  political  influence 
in  addition  if  they  happen  to  be  members  of  the  fire-companies, 
or  to  be  otherwise  enrolled  and  enregimented.  The  ruffians 
of  this  sort  have  names  that  differ  in  different  cities.  In  New 
York  there  are  "  Bowery  boys,"  "  Spiggots,"  "  High-binders," 
and  "  Rowdies."  The  last  word  has  already  reached  England, 
and  threatens  to  become  naturalized.   In  Washington  they  have 

E2 


'j^'M 


M  ^'J^i 


;l 


106 


LIFE  AND  LIBBRTT  IN  AMERICA. 


<<Swipers;"*  in  Philadelphia  «<Dead  Rabbits  ;**  and  in  Balti- 
more, "Plug-uglies,"  "Ro8ebud8,"t  and  "Blood-tubs."  In 
the  New  England  States,  where  the  municipal  government  is 
generally  far  more  settled,  and  where  a  volunteer  fire  service 
is  not  the  rule,  but  the  exception,  these  Ishm^ls  are  not  to  be 
found,  and  the  order  and  regularity  approach  to,  or  equal  that 
of  the  streets  of  London,  where  a  "  Plug-ugly,"  a  "  Dead  Bab- 
bit," or  a  ' '  Blood-tub"  would  stand  no  chance  against  the 
poUce. 

Among  other  Americanisms  that  strike  the  attention  of  a 
stranger,  though  doubtless  they  would  not  be  noticed  by  a 
native-bom  American  of  the  highest  culture  and  refinement, 
simply  from  the  fact  of  the  familiarity,  are  such  mispronunci- 
ations as  "  ben"  for  "  been,"  "  air"  for  "  are,"  and  "  was"  for 
"were;"  " ant-<^e-slavery"  for  "anti-slavery,"  "Eye-taljr" 
for  "Italy,"  "Eye-talian"  for  "Italian,"  " dye-plomatic"  for 
"  diplomatic,"  and  invariably  "  m^elf "  for  the  more  subdued 
mode  in  which  we  in  the  "  old  country"  pronounce  these  two 
egotistical  syllables.  "  Engine"  is  generally  "  en-gine,**  though 
"  machine"  retains  the  English  pronunciation. 

Among  the  idiomatic  and  proverbial  expressions  that  differ 
from  those  of  the  mother  country  are  such  as  the  following : 
"  I  reckon,"  which  is  the  distinctive  mark  of  the  Southerners, 


*  "  Last  night,  at  about  half  past  eleven  o'clock,  another  of  those 
murders  which  have  been  so  frequent  of  late  in  Washington,  by  the 
hands  of  rowdies,  was  committed  on  the  corner  of  Ninth  Street  and  New 
York  Avenue.  Marcellus  Stoops,  a  quiet  young  man,  a  messenger  in 
the  Treasury  Department,  while  walking  leisurely  along  in  company 
with  another  young  man,  was  shot  with  a  pistol.  He  died  a  few  min- 
utes afterward,  and  before  Dr.  Duhamel,  who  was  sent  for,  could  reach 
the  spot.  Eight  or  ten  men  of  the  fighting  club  here,  called  "  Swipers," 
have  been  '"rested,  and  it  is  stated  that  one  of  the  leaders,  called  John- 
son, shot  the  unfortunate  young  man.  Washington  has  become  the 
most  lawless  place  in  the  world." — New  York  Herald,  April  4, 1858. 

t  "  'Democrat  of  the  old  school'  informs  us  that  the  *  Rosebuds,' 
charged  with  rowdyism  at  the  last  Baltimore  election,  and  acquitted  in 
the  Circuit  Court  of  Baltimore  on  the  4th  inst.,  were  good  Buchanan 
Democrats,  and  were  acquitted  by  a  Know  Nothing  jury,  because  the 
evidence  plainly  showed  the  police  to  be  in  the  wrong." — New  York 
Herald^  February  14, 1859. 


AMEBICAKISMS  AND  AMERICAN  SLANG. 


107 


;iD, 


ihn- 
the 


as  "  I  guess*'  i   of  the  people  of  the  New  England  States  and 
of  the  Nonh      i«erally.     "All  aboard,"  or  "All  aboord,"  is 
the  invariab'e  cry  of  the  conductors  and  officials  of  the  rail- 
way stations  or  depots  when  they  wish  the  passengers  to  take 
their  seats.     This  is  not  the  only  nautical  phrase  in  general 
use  among  the  Americans.     "  Where  do  you  hail  from !"  is 
often  asked ;  and  it  is  not  uncommon  to  be  told  that  Mr.  or 
Mrs.  So-and-so  has  been  "  hauled  up"  with  a  fever.     To  be 
^'  under  the  weather"  is  to  suffer  from  cold.    To  "  give  a  man 
hell"  is  to  beat  him,  bully  him,  or,  as  our  prize-fighters  would 
say,  "  punish"  him.     To  make  a  man  "  smell  hell"  is  a  phrase 
with  a  similar  meaning.     I  remember  hearing,  in  the  Parlia- 
ment of  one  of  the  Southern  States,  an  angry  orator  declare, 
that  if  the  gentleman  from — say  Buncombe  (not  the  honora- 
ble member  for  Buncombe,  as  with  us),  dared  to  repeat  out  of 
the  house  what  he  had  said  in  the  house,  he  would  make  him 
"  smell  hell."     A  common  expression  in  the  Southern  States 
to  denote  an  ambuscade  is  that  "there  is  a  nigger  in  the 
fence."     In  the  Northern  States  the  same  meaning  is  con- 
veyed by  the  phrase,  possibly  English  in  its  origin,  "  There's 
a  cat  in  the  meal-tub."     A  man  of  great  importance  in  his 
own  estimation  or  that  of  the  world,  is  called  a  "  big  bug." 
Thus  I  Street  in  "Washington,  the  residence  of  the  foreign 
embassadors,  bankers,  and  other  important  persons,  is  said  to 
be  inhabited  by  the  "  big  bugs."     A  person  of  note  and  great 
wealth  is  said  to  be  "  some  punkins"  (or  pumpkins).     And 
instead  of  the  common  English  phrase,  that  "  it  is  well  to 
wash  the  dirty  family  linen  at  home,"  the  Western  people 
have  the  more  striking  and  significant  phrase,  that  '^  every 
man  should  skin  his  own  skunk."     The  skunk  is  fortunately 
unknown  in  England,  but  it  is  a  little  animal  that  smells  ten 
thousand  times  worse  than  a  polecat,  and  of  which,  if  the  least 
odor  gets  into  the  clothes  or  garments  of  man  or  woman,  the 
only  remedy  is  to  burn  them.     "  To  play  'possum"  is  equiv- 
alent to  the  old  London  phrase  of  "shamming  Abraham," 
the  opossum  having  a  trick  of  pretending  to  be  dead  when  it 
finds  that  all  other  means  of  escape  from  its  enemies  are  un- 
availing. 


.' 


108 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


A  hunch  of  sprouts.  An  Englishman  who  had  steamed 
down  the  Mississippi  with  a  captain  who  was  not  "clever" 
in  the  American  sense  of  the  word,  seeing  on  his  arrival 
at  New  Orleans  a  great  assemblage  of  people  at  the  levee, 
and  hearing  a  disturbance,  asked  the  captain  what  was  the 
matter. 

"  Oh,  nothing  particular,"  said  the  captain.  "  It  is  only 
Jones,  an  editor,  who  has  quarreled  with  Smith,  another  edi- 
tor, and  given  him  a  whole  bunch  of  sprouts." 

"A  bunch  of  sprouts!"  inquired  the  Englishman.     ■ 
^rt  "  Yes,  a  bunch  of  sprouts,"  said  the  captain. 
,    "  And  what  is  a  *  bunch  of  sprouts  V  "  inquired  John  Bull, 
bewildered. 

"  Don't  you  know !"  rejoined  the  captain. 

"I  don't,"  said  John  BuU. 

"  Then  more  fool  you,"  was  the  reply,  on  giving  which  the 
captain  turned  upon  his  heel  and  walked  away. 

The  Englishman,  not  altogether  discouraged,  applied  to  the 
clerk  for  information. 

"Oh  !  editors  are  always  quarreling  here,"  he  replied.  "  It 
is  but  one  editor  who  has  given  another  a  bunch  of  sprouts." 

"  But  what  is  a  *  bunch  of  sprouts  ?'  '* 

"  Don't  you  know  1" 

"Not!" 

"  Why,  what  a  fool  you  must  be  I" 

The  stoiy  is  that  the  Englishman  has  asked  the  same  ques- 
tion since  that  day,  no  one  knows  how  many  years  ago,  of 
thousands  of  people,  but  never  obtained  an  answer ;  that  the 
idea  has  taken  entire  possession  of  his  mind ;  and  that  he  is 
wandering  over  the  United  States  asking  every  one  he  meets, 
"  What  is  a  '  bunch  of  sprouts  ?' "  Keceiving  no  satisfactory 
reply,  he  hurries  on  from  place  to  place,  and  from  person  to 
person,  worn  to  a  skeleton,  the  mere  shadow  of  a  man — ^a  kind 
of  flying  Dutchman — ^a  spectral  presence — a  wandering  Jew — 
asking  the  old,  eternal  question,  never  to  be  answered  on  this 
side  of  the  grave,  "  What  is  a  *  bunch  of  sprouts  V  "  Should 
this  unhappy  citizen  of  our  fortunate  isles  ever  read  these 
pages,  the  spell  that  is  upon  him  will  be  broken,  and  he  will 


AMERICAKISMS  AND  AlffcRICAN  SLANG. 


109 


learn  that  a  "  bunch  of  sprouts*'  is  a  slang  expression  for  the 
whole  discharge  of  a  revolver — ^barrel  after  barrel. 

To  attempt  to  make  a  vocabulary  of  the  political  slang 
words  that  every  now  and  then  arise  in  the  United  States, 
live  their  little  day,  and  sink  into  oblivion,  but  which,  while 
they  last,  sorely  puzzle  all  who  are  not  Americans,  would  be 
an  endless  and  an  unsatisfactory  task.  Such  words  and 
phrases  as  "Hard  Shells,"  "Soft  Shells,"  "Locofocos," 
"Know  Nothings,"  and  others,  which  float  about  on  the 
stormy  ocean  of  politics  until  they  are  ingulfed  or  rot  away, 
are  ephemeral  by  their  very  nature.  Invented  by  newspapers 
or  stump  orators,  they  tickle  the  public  fancy  for  a  time. 
They  enjoy  considerable  popularity  while  current,  but  they  arc 
so  entirely  local  as  scarcely  to  merit  explanation  beyond  the 
limits  of  the  country  which  produces  them. 

A  rich  and  fruitful  source  of  slang  expressions  is  to  be  found 
in  the  names  of  drinks  in  such  Southern  and  Western  States 
as  the  agents  of  the  Maine  Liquor  Law  have  hitherto  assault- 
ed in  vain.  "  Gin-sling,"  "  brandy-smash,"  "  a  streak  of  light- 
ning," "whisky-skin,"  "mint-julep,"  "cocktail,"  "sherry- 
cobbler,"  and  others,  are  more  or  less  known,  both  by  name 
and  by  nature,  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  and  need  not  be 
farther  particularized.  In  the  South — and  possibly  the  phrase 
extends  northward  to  New  York,  and  westward  beyond  Chi- 
cago— a  dram,  or  small  glass  of  spirits,  is  called  a  "  smile.'* 

Let  no  American  reader  of  these  pages  misinterpret  the  mo- 
tives which  induce  a  traveler  from  the  old  country,  that  still 
presumes  to  be  the  home  of  the  language  as  well  as  of  the 
race,  to  note  the  differences  which  climate  and  circumstances 
may  make  in  such  a  familiar  matter  as  the  daily  speech  of  the 
semi-educated  or  the  wholly  vulgar.  In  England,  the  changes 
which  the  spoken  language  undergoes  from  generation  to  gen- 
eration are  very  many,  and  such  is  the  ever-increasing  inter- 
course between  the  United  States  and  the  British  Isles,  that 
a  word  introduced  in  the  one  speedily  becomes  known  in  the 
other,  and  if  it  have  any  terseness  or  appositeness  to  recom- 
mend it,  becomes  naturalized  in  both  countries.  It  takes  a 
long  time  to  secure  even  for  a  good  and  valuable  word  a  place 


H 


fM 


m 


1     .   :; 


1^ 


110 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTT  IN  AMERICA. 


in  the  dignified  niche  of  a  dictionary,  in  which  respect  our  die* 
tionary  makers  err  on  the  side  of  undue  conservatbm.     Man 
is  not  made  for  language,  but  language  is  made  for  man ;  and 
the  English  spoken  at  the  time  when  Columbus  discovered 
America  is  not  the  English  spoken  either  in  England  or  Amer- 
ica at  the  present  time.     Even  the  common  talk  of  the  fathers 
of  the  present  generation  differed  in  many  respects  from  the 
common  talk  of  the  men  of  the  year  1859,  and  the  copious- 
ness, if  not  the  elegance,  of  the  noblest  tongue,  all  things  con- 
sidered, spoken  in  the  present  age  of  the  world,  is  continually 
increased  by  inventions,  revivals,  and,  it  may  be  said,  rob- 
beries, or,  at  the  least,  appropriations  and  assimilations  from 
other  languages,  less  fortunate  and  wealthy.     It  were  to  be 
wished,  however,  that  those  who  have  the  ear  of  their  coun- 
trymen, either  as  great  orators  or  great  wiiters,  would,  instead 
of  being  led  away,  as  they  sometimes  are,  by  a  foolish  fashion 
for  a  word,  as  ladies  are  by  a  stupid  fashion  for  red  stockings 
or  red  petticoats,  and  other  ebullitions  of  the  scarlet  fever,  be- 
think themselves  how  many  excellent  words  have  dropped  out 
of  use  since  the  days  of  Chaucer,  or  even  more  recently,  since 
those  of  Shakspeare.     Some  of  these  words  are  of  the  highest 
value  both  to  orators  and  poets,  and  it  would  be  much  better 
to  revive  them  than  to  coin  other  words  out  of  foreign  or  vul- 
gar materials,  which  do  not  and  never  can  harmonize  so  thor- 
oughly with  the  genius  of  our  tongue  as  the  sturdy,  pithy, 
able-bodied  words  of  our  Anglo-Saxon  and  Anglo- Scandina- 
vian ancestors.     The  Scottish,  and  even  the  Northumbrian, 
Yorkshire,  Lincolnshire,  Suffolk,  and  Cornish  dialects  of  the 
English  language  contain  many  excellent  words  that  the  great- 
est writers  since  the  days  of  Pope  and  Addison  have  never 
thought  of  using,  but  by  aid  of  which  our  literature  would  be 
all  the  richer  if  men  of  influence  with  the  pen  would  judicious- 
ly and  cautiously  endeavor  to  reintroduce  them.     Why,  for 
instance,  should  we  have  ^<  rather,"  and  not  *^  rathe"  and 
**rathest?"    Why  not  naturalize  the  Scottish  "gloaming," 
** glamour,"  "cannie,"  "douce,"  "bonnie,"  "cantie,"  "son- 
eie,"  "  daft,"  "  wud,"  "  wowff,"  and  many  other  honest  words 
that  have  not  their  synonyms  in  English  literature  t    The 


AMERICANISMS  AND  AMERICAN  SLANG. 


Ill 


archteological  dictionaries  and  glossaries  of  the  British  Isles 
contain  mines  of  treasure,  which,  when  we  consider  of  what 
elements  the  population  of  the  United  States  and  Canada  is 
mainly  composed,  lead  us  to  hope  that  our  language,  like  our 
race,  may  achieve  new  triumphs,  and  attain  greater  wealth 
and  power  in  the  new  r^ons  to  which  it  has  been  transplant- 
ed than  it  ever  attained  in  the  original  cradle  of  its  birth  and 
growth.  If  he  who  makes  a  blade  of  grass  grow  where  grass 
never  grew  before,  is  to  that  extent  a  public  benefactor,  is  not 
he  who  coins  a  new  word  to  express  a  new  meaning,  or  an  old 
meaning  that  could  not  be  otherwise  expressed  without  a  peri- 
phrasis or  a  whole  sentence  to  itself,  or,  better  still,  who  re- 
vives a  good  old  word  that  ought  never  to  have  been  allowed 
to  die,  a  public  benefactor  also  ?  I  think  so,  and  for  that  rea- 
son have  dwelt  at  greater  length  upon  the  subject  of  Ameri- 
canisms in  speech  than  I  should  otherwise  have  considered 
myself  justified  in  doing. 

In  addition  to  these,  there  are  AmericanL^ms  in  writing 
which  strike  the  traveler  by  their  novelty.  To  an  English- 
man it  would  seem  odd  if,  instead  of  Birmingham  on  the  ad- 
dress of  a  letter,  there  were  simply  "  Bin,"  or  instead  of  Lon- 
don, "Lon.,"  or  of  Manchester,  "  Man."  But  such  abbrevia- 
tions are  the  rule  and  not  the  exception  in  America.  Every 
state  in  the  Union  has  its  recognized  abbreviation,  which  is 
always  a  monosyllable,  wherever  it  is  possible  so  to  make  it. 
New  York,  New  Jersey,  New  Hampshire,  Rhode  Island,  Nortli 
Carolina,  and  South  Carolina,  are  the  sole  exceptions  to  the 
monosyllabic  arrangement,  and  are  commonly  written  and 
printed  N.  Y.,  N.  J.,  N.  H.,  R.  I.,  N.  Ca.,  and  S.  Ca.  The 
other  states  are. 


Maine Me. 

Vermont Vt. 

Massachusetts Mass . 

Connecticut Conn. 

Pennsylvania Fa. 

Delaware Del. 

Maryland Ma.  or  Md. 

Virginia Va. 

Georgia. (jla. 


Alabama Ala. 

Mississippi Miss. 

Missouri Mo. 

Louisiana La. 

Arkansas Ark. 

Tennessee Tenn. 

Kentucky Ky. 

Ohio O. 

Michigan Mich. 


1!  , 


w^ 


■|L 


112 


LIFE  AND  LIBLATT  IN  AUERICA. 


Indiana Ind. 

IlUnob 111. 

Florida Fla. 

Texas Tex. 


Iowa lo. 

Wisconsin Wis. 

Minnesota Min. 

California Cal. 


In  like  manner,  the  name  of  the  city  of  Baltimore  is  abbre- 
viated into  Balto.  A  busy,  *<  go-ahead'|  nation  has  not  time 
to  write  the  names  of  its  states  and  cities  in  fulL  If  this  be 
not  the  reason,  it  is  difficult  to  find  another. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


TBB  IRISH  IN   AMERICA. 


Washington,  January,  1858. 

Standing  at  the  bar  of  Willard's  Hotel,  in  Washington,  in 
company  with  two  distinguished  senators  and  three  members 
of  Congress,  and  taking,  all  of  us,  a  slight  noonday  refection 
of  crackers  (biscuits)  and  lager  beer,  our  conversation  turned 
upon  the  great  rebellion  in  India,  and  upon  the  indomitable 
"  pluck"  and  energy  displayed  by  the  British  soldiers  and  com- 
manders, and  especially  by  the  gallant  Havelock,  in  confront- 
ing and  subduing  the  mutineers.  The  execrations  lavished 
upon  the  name  of  Nana  Sahib,  and  the  fervent  praises  show- 
ered upon  that  of  Havelock  by  my  American  firiends,  could 
not  have  been  surpassed  for  honest  intensity  in  any  circle  in 
England.  Every  one  of  them  seemed  to  feel  proud  that  he 
was  of  the  same  blood  and  lineage  as  the  conquerors  of  India, 
and,  although  the  great  struggle  was  far  from  concluded,  each 
predicted  that  it  could  but  have  one  result — the  utter  discom- 
fiture of  the  foe,  and  the  triumphant  vindication  of  British 
supremacy  in  every  portion  of  our  Eastern  empire. 

"  It  is  the  blood,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  senators — "  the  no- 
blest and  best  blood  in  the  world — a  blood  that  never  was 
conquered,  and  never  will  be." 

At  this  moment,  a  person  who  had  been  hanging  on,  and 
listening  to  the  conversation — an  Irishman  by  his  accent,  and 
who,  as  it  afterward  appeared,  had  not  been  above  five  years 
in  America — ^burst  in  upon  us  with  a  volley  of  oaths  so  awful 


TBB  IBISH  IK  JLUSBIOA. 


118 


and  BO  diflgnsiing  that  no  gentleman  or  man  of  common  de- 
cency would  whisper  them,  much  more  print  them,  and  im- 
precated such  wrath  of  heaven  upon  England  and  upon  En- 
glishmen in  India  and  at  home,  that  I  fairly  lost  breath  in  the 
excess  of  my  surprise  at  hearing  such  abominable  sentiments 
in  the  mouth  of  a  human  being.  That  every  English  man, 
woman,  and  child  in  India  should  be  put  to  the  sword,  was 
but  one  of  the  hideous  wishes  which  ho  formed,  and  his  whole 
speech,  gesture,  and  demeanor  suggested  the  idea  that  he  was 
a  maniac  rather  than  a  sane  man.  It  did  not  appear,  how- 
ever, that  ho  was  mad.  Ho  was  a  well-known  ''  citizen,"  I 
was  told,  and  much  respected ;  and,  though  much  moro  vio- 
lent in  his  Anglophobia  than  the  Irish  generally,  he  but  ex- 
pressed a  feeling  only  too  common  among  men  of  his  race  who 
have  left  Ireland  for  Great  Britain's  good,  and  brought  their 
passions  and  their  prejudices  into  the  great  arena  of  American 
politics. 

The  incident  su^ested  tho  propriety  of  making  some  in- 
quiries into  the  condition  of  the  Irish  in  the  United  States, 
and  to  the  sources  of  their  continually  and  openly  avowed 
hatred  toward  England.  It  can  not  be  denied  that  the  Irish 
imiKici'sition  has  been  of  incalculable  service  to  the  develop- 
ment of  the  resources  of  the  United  States,  and  moro  espe- 
cially of  the  North  and  West.  As  servants,  or  "  helps,"  in- 
stead of  the  negroes — to  the  employment  of  whom  many  per- 
sons have  an  aversion — and  as  strong,  sturdy  laborers  doing 
all  the  rough  work  of  the  country,  especially  building  and  the 
making  of  canals  and  railroads,  they  havo  supplied  a  great 
public  want,  and  aided  immensely  in  the  material  progress  of 
the  country.  Tho  native-bom  American,  of  Anglo-Saxon  de- 
scent, looks  upon  all  rough  labor,  except  that  of  the  farm,  as 
somewhat  derogatory  from  his  dignity.  It  is  for  him  to  labor 
-with  his  brains  rather  than  with  his  thews  and  sinews ;  to 
barter,  not  to  dig  and  delve ;  and  to  set  others  to  hard  work 
rather  than  do  the  hard  work  himself.  And  the  able-bodied 
Irish  supplied  the  very  help  he  needed,  and  both  parties  to  the 
bargain  were  satisfied — the  Americans  in  getting  the  work 
done,  and  the  Irishman  in  getting  as  much  wages  in  one  day 


i   I. 
.  ■  »■■ 


w 


,'      '  ' 


.• ) 


*4;-i  ■; , 


114 


LIFB  AND  LIBERTY   IN  AMERICA. 


if 


08  he  could  have  got  in  Ireland  or  in  England  in  a  week. 
But  here  the  Batisfaction  of  the  Americans  came  to  an  end. 
The  new-comer,  though  not  entitled  to  a  vote  until  after  a 
residence  of  a  certain  number  of  years  in  the  country,  either 
found  means  himself,  or  had  them  found  for  him  by  others,  to 
claim  the  privilege  before  he  had  been  a  week  on  American 
soil.  Instances  have  been  known,  during  hot  election  con- 
tests in  the  state  or  the  municipality  of  New  York,  when  the 
whole  male  immigration  landed  in  the  morning  from  a  Cork  or 
Liverpool  vessel  has  voted  ere  the  afternoon  for  one  "  ticket" 
or  the  other.  This  abuse,  and  the  general  dictatorialness  of 
the  Irish  party,  when,  after  due  naturalization  and  long  res- 
idence, they  had  acquired  the  legal  right  to  vote,  and  had  been 
marshaled  by  their  ecclesiastical  and  lay  leaders  into  one  un- 
broken phalanx,  led  to  the  establishment  of  what  is  sometimes 
called  the  ^'  Know-nothing,"  and  sometimes  the  "  American" 
party.  The  main  object  of  this  organization,  whatever  be  its 
proper  designation,  was  to  prevent  all  but  native-bom  Amer- 
icans from  voting  at  elections ;  and  there  can  be  little 
doubt,  if  they  could  have  succeeded  in  this  object,  that  the 
anti-British  feeling  which  is  so  often  fomented  in  the  States 
for  purposes  wholly  domestic  and  internal,  would  speedily  di- 
minish, if  it  did  not  die  out  altogether.  And  it  is  well  that 
the  British  people  should  understand  how  it  is  that,  from  time 
to  time,  so  much  jealousy  and  ill  feeling  are  expressed  toward 
England  by  speakers  and  writers  in  the  United  States.  The 
most  influential,  if  not  the  largest  portion  of  the  American 
people,  are  the  descendants  of  Englishmen  ^nd  Scotchmen — 
men  who,  when  they  speak  from  their  hearts  of  England,  her 
laws,  her  literature,  and  her  example,  might  borrow  the  words 
of  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  and  exclaim, 

"  Our  littlemother  isle  I  God  bless  her  1" 

The  descendants  of  the  French,  the  Germans,  and  the  Nor- 
wegians, who  form  another  lai^e  class  in  America,  have  no 
ill  feeling  toward  England.  They  are  a  patient,  plodding,  and 
industrious  people,  and  if  they  do  not  love  her,  they  certainly 
do  not  hate  her.    The  party  that  hates  England,  and  which  it 


THI  IRISn  IK  AMERICA. 


115 


Is  sometimes  expedient  to  propitiate  even  at  the  cost  of  reason, 
justice,  and  propriety,  exists  mainljr  in  the  Irish  immigration. 
The  Ilibemo-Americans,  as  a  body,  entertain  a  religious  as 
well  as  a  political  hatred  toward  Great  Britain — a  hatred 
which  would  doubtless  expire  were  it  not  fostered  for  purposes 
of  ecclesiastical  domination  and  influence,  or  encouraged  for 
the  selfish  objects  of  ambitious  demagogues,  who  strive  to  raise 
themselves  into  notoriety  and  power  by  arts  that  in  the  Old 
Country  have  ceased  to  be  profitable  in  ceasing  to  be  danger- 
ous. Parties  in  America  are  divided  in  reality  into  the  pro- 
slavery  and  anti-slavery  parties,  and — with  some  minor  shades 
of  difference,  that  arc  as  shifting  as  the  glass  beads  and  frag- 
ments in  a  kaleidoscope — into  the  Kepublican  and  Democratic 
parties.  These  are  the  two  great  and  essential  divisions,  shift 
and  change  as  they  may ;  and,  these  being  pretty  nearly  bal- 
anced, the  Irish  party,  well  drilled  and  organized,  and  keeping 
aloof  until  victory  must  be  declared  on  some  one  of  the  many 
issues  that  are  continually  raised,  is  able  but  too  often  to  turn 
the  scale.  Hence  the  Hibemo- Americans  are  hated  and  yet 
courted  by  both ;  and  hence  every  now  and  then  it  is  found 
that  statesmen  who  have  no  sympathy  for  the  Irish  and  the 
priests  deem  it  necessary  to  angle  for  Irish  votes  by  anti-En- 
glish orations,  which  it  would  greatly  grieve  these  statesmen  to 
be  taken  in  England  at  their  American  value. 

Whenever  the  election  for  President  draws  near,  and  for  at 
least  eighteen  months  before  the  final  decision  of  the  struggle, 
it  may  be  noticed  that  the  American  press,  both  of  the  North 
and  the  South,  gets  up  a  grievance  against  England.  If  it  be 
not  the  right  of  search,  or  the  enlistment  question,  or  a  dis- 
puted boundary  in  the  far  Northwest,  or  a  fishing  case  in  the 
Bay  of  Fundy,  or  the  right  of  way  across  the  Isthmus  of  Pan- 
ama, or  the  Mosquitian  Protectorate,  it  will  be  something  else ; 
perhaps  something  of  no  greater  moment  than  a  leading  article 
in  The  Times,  of  some  other  London  journal  of  note  or  infiu- 
ence.  Hard  words  will  be  used ;  much  "  bunkum*'  will  be 
spoken ;  and  from  the  press  the  vituperation  will  spread  to  the 
floor  of  Congress,  until  Englishmen,  partly  alarmed  and  partly 
amused,  arc  compelled  to  ask  in  genuine  bewilderment  what 


FT 


116 


LIFE  AND  UBERTY  IK  AMERICA. 


it  all  means  T  It  meaiu  nothing,  except  that  the  two  great 
American  parties,  opposing  each  other  for  some  object,  or  to 
carry  the  election  of  some  candidate  for  high  office,  and  deem- 
ing every  vote  of  importance  in  a  contest  too  evenly  balanced 
to  be  comfortable  for  either,  desire  to  have  the  Irish  on  their 
Bide.  And  the  straw  with  which  the  Irish  are  most  eu^ily 
tickled  is  abuse  of  England.  Predict  that  the  sun  of  England's 
greatness  is  set  forever,  and  the  Irishman  will  think  you  the 
pink  of  orators.  Assert  that  Brother  Jonathan  will  "  lick" 
John  Bull  into  immortal  "  smash,"  and  all  creation  along  with 
him,  and  Paddy  0*Rourke  will  flourish  his  shillaly,  and  vent 
his  ecstasy  in  prolonged  ululations.  ...  i 

But  the  leading  statesmen  of  America,  though  they  ore  con- 
demned at  times  to  use  such  agencies  for  the  accomplishment 
of  purposes  which  have  not  the  remotest  connection  with  En- 
glish politics,  despise  the  tools  with  which  they  do  this  work, 
and  look  with  unfeigned  alarm  upon  the  prospect  of  any  seri- 
ous misunderstanding  with  Great  Britain.  It  is  not  race  or 
blood,  so  much  as  religion,  that  creates  the  ill-feeling  of  Ro- 
man Catholic  Irishmen  toward  Protestant  England.  And  this 
animosity,  which  docs  not  affect  the  German  immigration, 
even  when  newly  arrived,  is  found  by  experience  to  be  greatly 
weakened  in  the  second  generation.  The  children  born  of 
Irish  parents  upon  American  sc/il,  sent  in  ordinary  course  to  tlic 
excellent  schools  so  bountifully  provided  in  all  the  states,  are 
assimilated  to  the  common  American  type,  and  in  their  youth 
and  maturity  cease  to  look  upon  England  with  the  vindictive- 
ness  of  their  progenitors.  They  cling  affectionately  to  the 
uame  and  to  the  memory  of  the  green  isle,  but  do  not  find  it 
absolutely  essential  to  their  love  of  Ireland  that  they  should 
hate  England.  If  a  few  of  the  fathers  invcigl;  ngp.'nst  the 
Sassenach  with  the  bloodthii-sty  bitterness  of  .ho  ?A»i!<  t  whose 
exhibition  of  himself  in  the  public  room  at  VViiiard's  has  led 
to  these  observations,  it  is  satisfactory  to  think  that  the  virus 
is  weakened  in  the  children,  and  that  a  cause  so  beneficent  for 
the  chu'ic^ft  is  to  be  found  in  the  operation  of  the  school  system 
and  tli€    AiOnis -on  of  education. 


FBOM  WIBHINQTON  TO  CINCINNATL 

■                       •                  4 

117 

■ 

• 

CILUTEU  XV. 

FROM   WASHINGTON    ro   CINCINNATL 

• 

* 

Cincinniiti,  January  19,  18C8. 
PraOR  to  leaving  Washington,  my  friends — and  amonp  their 
luai'rs  I  might  mention,  if  it  were  a  portion  of  my  dei^ign  to 
u^  t;t.^  private  gossip,  some  of  the  most  illustrious  public  men 
in  America — gave  me  a  parting  dinner  at  Gautier's  wcU-known 
restaurant  in  Pennsylvania  Avenue.  It  is  not  necessary  to 
say  more  of  this  dinner  than  that  it  was  luxuriously  served, 
the  cooking  as  scientific,  and  the  wines  as  rare,  as  if  the  sym- 
posium had  been  in  Paris  jr  London.  Furthermore,  it  led  to 
the  production  of  the  following  lines,  which  the  author  recited 
in  lieu  of  making  a  speech : 

JOHN  AND  JONATHAN. 

I. 

*'  Said  Brother  Jonathan  to  John, 

*  You  are  the  elder-bom, 
And  I  can  bear  another's  hato, 

But  not  your  lightest  scorn. 
You've  lived  a  life  of  noble  strife, 

You've  made  a  world  your  own : 
Why,  when  I  follow  in  your  steps, 

Beceive  me  with  a  groan  ? 

II. 
«*  *  I  feel  the  promptings  of  my  youth, 
That  urge  me  evermore 
To  spread  my  fame,  my  race,  my  name 

From  shore  to  farthest  shore. 
I  feel  the  lightnings  in  my  blood, 

The  thunders  in  my  hand, 
And  I  must  work  my  destiny, 
Whoever  may  withstand. 

III. 
*'  *  And  if  you'd  give  me.  Brother  John, 
The  sympathy  I  crave, 
And  stretch  your  wnrm  fraternal  hand 
Across  the  Atlantic  wave, 


1^ 


II 


118 


■■(•■ 


LIFE  AND  LIBEBTY  IN  AMERICA. 

I'd  give  it  such  a  cordial  grasp 
That  earth  should  start  to  see, 

And  ancient  crowns  and  sceptres  shake, 
That  fear  both  you  and  me.' 

IV. 

"  Said  Brother  John  to  Jonathan, 

'  You  do  my  nature  wrong ; 
I  never  hated,  never  scom'd, 

But  loved  you  well  and  long. 
If,  children  of  the  self-same  siro, 

We've  quarrel'd  now  and  then, 
'Twas  only  in  our  early  youth, 

And  not  since  we  were  men. 


V. 

" '  And  if  with  cautious,  cooler  blood, 

Result  of  sufferings  keen, 
I  sometimes  think  you  move  too  fast, 

Mistake  not  what  I  mean. 
Tve  felt  the  follies  of  my  youth, 

The  errors  of  my  prime. 
And  dream'd  for  you — my  father's  son — 

A  future  more  sublime. 

VI. 

"  *  And  here's  my  hand — tis  freely  given — 

I  stretch  it  o'er  the  brine. 
And  wish  you  from  my  heart  of  hearts 

A  higher  life  than  mine. 
Together  let  us  rule  the  world. 

Together  work  and  thrive ; 
For  if  you're  only  twenty-one, 

I'm  scarcely  thirty-five. 

VII. 

"  'And  I  have  strength  for  nobler  work 

Than  e'er  my  hand  has  done. 
And  realms  to  rule  and  truths  to  plant 

Beyond  the  rising  sun. 
Take  you  the  West  and  I  the  East ; 

We'll  spread  ourselves  abroad. 
With  trade  and  spade  and  wholesome  laws^ 

And  faith  in  man  and  God.  \ 

VIII. 

**  'Take  you  the  West  and  I  the  East ; 
We  speak  the  self-same  tongue 
That  Milton  wrote  and  Chatham  spoke. 
And  Bums  and  Shakspeare  sung ; 


FEOM  WASHINGTON  TO  CINCINNATI. 


119 


And  from  oar  tongue,  oar  hand,  oar  heart. 

Shall  countless  blessings  flow 
To  light  two  darkened  hemispheres 

That  know  not  where  they  go. 


'^m.  ^ 


•w 


IX. 

"  '  Oar  Anglo-Saxon  name  and  fame. 

Our  Anglo-Saxon  speech, 
Received  their  mission  straight  from  heaven 

To  civilize  and  teach. 
So  here's  my  hand,  I  stretch  it  forth ; 

Ye  meaner  lands  look  on ! 
From  this  day  hence  there's  friendship  firm 

Twixt  Jonathan  and  John !' 

X. 

"They  shook  their  hands — this  noble  pair— 

And  o*er  the  '  electric  chain' 
Came  daily  messages  of  peace 

And  love  betwixt  them  twain. 
When  other  nations,  sore  oppressed, 

Lie  dark  in  sorrow's  night. 
They  look  to  Jonathan  and  John, 

And  hope  for  coming  light." 

Leaving  unvisited  until  another  opportunity  the  large  and 
flourishing  city  of  Baltimore,  we  started  from  "Washington  for 
Cincinnati,  by  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio  Railway,  at  the  early 
hour  of  four  on  a  cold  morning  of  January.  The  rain  fell  in 
torrents — in  drops  larger  than  fall  in  England  in  the  heaviest 
thunderstorms  of  July  or  August.  The  long,  wide  avenues 
of  the  capital  were  silent  and  deserted,  and  the  few  gas-lights 
threw  a  flickering  radiance  over  the  swollen  gutters,  that 
rolled  along  like  mimic  rivers  to  join  the  neighboring  stream 
of  the  Potomac.  I  had  made  so  many  friends  at  Washington 
— met  so  many  of  the  most  able,  most  eloquent,  and  most  in- 
fluential members  of  the  House  of  Representatives  and  of  the 
Senate — ^been  at  so  many  balls,  parties,  and  dinners,  and  seen 
so  much  of  the  beauty,  fashion,  elegance,  and  grace  which  cen- 
tre at  Washington  during  the  full  tide  of  legislative  business, 
that  I  left  the  c:  ,y  with  regret.  For  the  first  thirty  miles  of 
the  journey,  and  until  the  morning  light  streamed  through  the 
windows  of  the  car,  I  was  but  half  awake.  I  had  confused 
visions  of  presidents,  embassadors,  governors,  generals,  colo- 


t-: 


I- 


I 


r 


ife' 


.'I 

m 

if- 


m 


120 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERIJA. 


nels,  judges,  members  of  Congress,  secretaries  of  state,  editors 
of  newspapers,  beautiful  women,  and  painted  savages,  toma- 
hawks in  hand,  and  scalps  around  their  shoulders,  all  mingling 
and  mixing  together  in  saturnalian  dance,  lingering  at  times  to 
drink  my  health  in  bumpers  of  Catawba,  and  then  all  melting 
away  into  empty  air.  At  last  we  stopped  at  the  Relay  House, 
and  our  engine  letting  off  steam  banished  from  my  hazy  mem- 
ory these  dim  and  blurred  recollections  of  the  past. 

From  Washington  to  the  Relay  House  the  road  nms  north- 
cast  through  a  portion  of  Maryland.  At  this  point,  at  a  dis- 
tance of  nine  miles  from  Baltimore,  the  rails  from  Washington 
and  Baltimore  unite.  The  road  then  strikes  due  west  to 
Harper's  Ferry,  where  it  enters  the  State  of  Virginia — so 
named  after  Queen  Elizabeth.  In  this  land  of  newness,  where 
even  such  modern  antiquity  is  something  to  be  proud  of,  the 
Virginians  designate  their  commonwealth  by  the  pet  name  of 
"the  Old  Dominion,"  and  love  to  trace  their  descent  from 
Englishmen  of  the  days  of  Shakspeare  and  the  Stuarts.  At 
Harper's  Ferry  the  Shenandoah  River  unites  with  the  Poto- 
mac, and  the  railway  crosses  the  united  stream  by  a  fine  bridge 
of  nine  hundred  feet  in  length,  and  then  runs  through  a  pic- 
turesque mountain  gorge  for  several  miles,  the  Potomac  foam- 
ing and  flowing  beneath,  and  steep,  precipitous  rocks  rising 
grandly  on  either  side.  From  this  point  to  the  little  city  of 
Cumberland — famous  for  its  productive  coal-mines,  and  situ- 
ated high  amid  the  ridges  of  the  Alleghany  Mountains — the 
scenery  offers  a  constant  succession  of  beauties  and  sublimities. 
The  engineering  difficulties  that  have  been  surmounted  by  the 
projectors  and  builders  of  this  line  arc  only  equaled  in  Europe 
by  the  famous  railway  from  Vienna  to  Trieste  across  the  Sim- 
mering Alps.  But  with  the  Austrian  line  the  Baltimore  and 
Ohio  Railway  may  well  stand  comparisop.  The  passage  of 
the  AUeghanies  is  as  noble  an  exhibition  of  skill  and  enter- 
prise as  the  passage  of  the  Styrian  Alps;  and  the  rapid  de- 
scent of  the  mountain,  within  a  few  miles  of  Wheeling,  379 
miles  from  Baltimore,  is  a  much  greater  feat  than  any  thing 
of  the  kind  attempted  on  any  other  railway  in  the  United, 
States.  I  was  unfortunate  enough  to  travel  over  the  most 
sublime  portion  of  the  road  in  the  night,  and  thus  to  lose  the 


TROM  WASHINGTON  TO  CINCINNATI. 


121 


opportunity  of  describing  from  personal  experience  the  scenery 
of  the  Alleghanies.  From  six  in  the  morning  until  dark  in 
the  evening  we  made  only  178  miles;  and  when  we  reached 
busy  and  smoky  Cumberland  nestled  amid  the  mountains,  the 
sun  was  setting  in  such  a  blaze  of  glory  as  to  prompt  the  de- 
sire to  wait  for  his  reappearance  in  the  east  ere  we  recom- 
menced our  journey.  But  this  was  not  to  be.  It  was  dark 
night  when  we  reached  Altamont,  forty-five  miles  farther,  and 
learned  from  the  guide-book,  and  the  not  very  communicative 
or  urbane  conductor  of  our  train,  that  we  were  at  the  cul- 
minating point  of  the  line,  and  at  a  height  of  2626  feet  above 
tide-water  at  Baltimore.  From  Altamont  to  Wheeling,  on 
the  River  Ohio,  a  distance  of  156  miles,  the  descent  is  not 
much  less  than  2400  feet.  The  road  crosses  several  rivers — 
among  others,  the  rapid  and  rejoicing  Youghiogheny ;  the  falls 
of  Snowy  Creek ;  the  Cheat  River,  310  feet  wide ;  the  beau- 
tiful Monongahela  (giving  its  name  to  some  famous  but  very 
bad  whisky),  which  is  crossed  by  a  viaduct  650  feet  long ;  and 
the  Fish  Creek,  a  tortuous  mountain  stream  which  makes  so 
many  twists  and  windings  ere  it  reaches  the  Ohio  that  the 
makers  of  the  railway  found  it  necessary  to  cross  it  no  less 
than  eight  times  on  substantial  bridges  before  they  could  leave 
it  behind  them.  As  for  the  tunnels  on  this  road,  their  name 
is  legion — one  of  them,  the  Kingwood  Tunnel,  being  a  cut  of 
4100  feet  through  the  solid  rock ;  and  the  Welling  Tunnel, 
1250  feet. 

But  the  rapid  descent  of  the  line  from  the  lower  sum- 
mit of  the  Alleghany  Ridge  to  Benwood  on  the  Ohio,  four 
miles  from  Wheeling,  is  the  most  marvelous  portion  of  the 
journey.  The  descent  is  effected  by  a  series  of  zigzags,  first 
clown  an  inclined  plane  for  several  hundred  yards,  then  back 
again  down  another  inclined  plane  of  equal  or  greater  length, 
then  forward  once  more  on  the  same  principle,  then  back 
again,  and  so  on  until  the  base  of  the  mountain  is  reached — 
the  locomotive  and  its  train  literally  going  down  stairs. 
Should  any  one  who  reads  tliesc  pages  ever  travel  on  thin 
line,  let  him  travel  by  daylight  if  he  wishes  to  see  this  mar- 
velous descent  and  some  of  the  finest  sccnciy  in  America. 

F 


■:*¥■ 


)|  i^i^slJ-* 


^^1 


122 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


We  arrived  at  the  little  dingy,  dull  city  of  Wheeling,  in 
Western  Virginia,  before  daylight  on  Sunday  morning,  and 
found  that  we  could  get  no  farther  until  Monday.  Here  we 
were  saluted  by  the  first  snow  of  the  season,  and  severally 
hastened  to  our  beds  to  snatch  the  sleep  which  it  is  next  to 
impossible  to  win,  or  even  to  woo,  in  a  hot,  frowsy,  uncom^ 
fortable  railway  car,  containing  from  fifty  to  sixty  people,  and 
a  demoniacal  furnace  burning  anthracite  coal.  Without  a 
proper  place  to  stow  away  one's  hat ;  with  no  convenience 
ey«n  to  repose  the  head  or  back,  except  to  the  ordinary  height 
of  a  chair ;  with  a  current  of  cold  outer  air  continually  stream- 
ing in,  and  rendered  necessary  by  the  sulphurous  heat  of  the 
furnace ;  and  with  the  constant  slamming  of  the  doors  at  either 
end  of  the  car,  as  the  conductor  goes  in  and  out,  or  some 
weary  passenger  steps  on  to  the  platform  to  have  a  smoke, 
the  passenger  must,  indeed,  be  "  dead  beat"  who  can  sleep  or 
even  doze  in  a  railway  car  in  America.  For  these  reasons 
right  glad  were  we  to  reach  Wheeling,  and  for  these  reasons 
we  postponed  the  pleasure  of  making  any  more  intimate  ac- 
quaintance with  it  than  sheets  and  pillows  would  afford  until 
the  hour  of  noon. 

At  length,  refreshed  by  sleep,  by  ablution,  and  by  break- 
fast, we  sallied  forth  to  look  at  the  town  and  at  the  Ohio. 
The  town  was  covered  with  a  dense  smoke-— for  it  bums  soft 
coal,  and  has  several  large  manufactories  of  nails,  screws,  and 
other  useful  articles  of  iron — and  some  of  its  tall  chimneys 
continue  to  vomit  forth  soot  even  on  the  day  of  rest.  It  is 
not  to  be  inferred  from  this  that  work  is  done  in  Wheelino-  on 
the  Sunday,  but  only  that  the  fires  are  not  extinguished.  Per- 
haps this  is  only  to  save  the  trouble  of  rekindling  on  the  Mon- 
day, for  coal  is  so  plentiful  and  cheap  as  to  be  retailed  at  one 
cent  and  a  half  (three  farthings)  a  bushel.  This  cheapness, 
however,  did  not  prevent  our  host  at  the  hotel  from  putting 
down  in  the  bill  one  dollar  (four  shillings  and  twopence)  for 
the  consumption  in  our  room  of  less  than  half  a  bushel  of  the 
commodity,  Avhieh  dollar  I  paid,  after  being  assured,  in  answer 
to  a  suggestion  to  that  effect  which  I  threw  out  for  our  host's 
consideration,  that  it  was  not  a  mistake,  but  the  regular 
charge. 


* :  ;  kl. 


FROM  WASHINGTON  TO  CINCINNATI. 


123 


•eak- 
lio. 
soft 
and 


The  Ohio  River  is  a  }'ellow  and  turbid  stream,  bearing 
down  in  its  broad  and  rapid  current  countless  particles  of  fine 
yellow  sand  and  clay,  which  it  washes  daily,  nightly,  and  hour- 
ly from  its  soft,  rich  banks.  It  is  crossed  at  Wheeling  by  a 
fine  suspension  bridge,  erected  on  the  site  of  one  still  finer, 
which  was  blown  down  by  a  hurricane  two  years  ago.  The 
immediate  banks  of  the  river  at  this  point  are  not  steep. 
Kanges  of  hills,  crowned  with  wood,  rise  on  cither  side,  within 
a  short  distance,  to  the  height  of  several  hundred  feet,  and 
suggest,  with  the  sole  exception  that  there  are  no  ruined  cas- 
tles, the  picturesque  beauties  of  the  Khinc.  There  is  almost 
daily  steam-boat  communication  between  Wheeling  and  Cin- 
cinnati, but,  as  the  distance  by  water  between  the  two  points, 
in  consequence  of  the  many  windings  of  the  river,  is  about 
GOO  miles,  and  that  by  railway  only  240,  most  travelers  who 
are  pressed  for  time  choose  the  latter  and  more  expeditious 
route.  As  this  was  our  condition,  we  started  at  11  o'clock 
on  Monday  morning  by  the  rail,  and  reached  the  Burnet 
House,  Cincinnati,  at  10  at  night.  We  found  rooms  prepared 
for  our  reception,  fires  lighted,  supper  ready,  excellent  Cataw- 
ba, and  a  cordial  welcome  from  Colonel  Coleman,  the  land- 
lord of  one  of  the  largest,  most  noted,  and  most  luxurious 
hotels  in  America. 

The  suspension  bridge  at  Wheeling  divides  Western  Vir- 
ginia from  the  State  of  Ohio  or  the  Buckoye  State.  This 
name  was  given  to  it  in  derision,  but  was  afterward  adopted 
by  the  people  of  Ohio,  and  changed  from  a  phrase  of  contempt 
into  one  of  endearment.  A  citizen  of  Ohio  is  a  Buckeye. 
jMeeting  an  Englishman  settled  in  Ohio,  who  presented  to  me 
his  three  daughters,  I  inquired  if  they  were  English.  "  No," 
he  replied,  "  they  are  Buckeyes."  And  what,  it  may  be  ask- 
ed, is  the  meaning  of  the  word  1  Buckeye  is  a  species  of  wild 
chestnut,  which  grows  so  plentifully  in  every  part  of  the  state 
as  to  be  its  one  pervading  and  prevailing  tree.  Its  fruit  bears 
a  fancied  resemblance  to  the  eye  of  the  buck  or  fawn,  and 
hence  its  name.  Both  the  leaves  and  the  fruit  are  poisonous 
to  cattle ;  but  in  this  respect,  like  the  human  creatures  who 
love  tobacco,  and  chew  it,  they  persist  in  indulging  themselves 


.si  Jr-,  I  if 


i] 


124 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


1 

1 

1  'lifi 

1 

1 

with  what  is  not  good  for  them  to  such  an  extent  that  the 
farmers  of  Ohio  detest  the  tree  as  a  public  nuisance,  and  would 
be  glad  if  it  could  be  totally  extirpated,  to  make  room  for  some 
other  of  greater  utility  and  with  fewer  demerits.  And  doubt- 
less the  farmers  will  have  their  way  sooner  or  later. 

The  snow  which  had  fallen  during  the  night  had  all  disap- 
peared before  we  entered  the  State  of  Ohio.  The  day  was  mild 
and  genial,  and  the  sun  shone  brilliantly.  The  soil  as  far  as 
Columbus,  the  capital,  a  distance  of  120  miles,  is  one  deep,  rich, 
soft  stratum  of  diHintegratcd  limestone,  so  fertile  that  for  forty 
years,  without  change  of  crop,  or  the  use  of  the  smallest  par- 
ticle of  manure,  it  has  continued  to  grow  maize,  or  Indian  com, 
in  such  immense  quantities,  that  the  crops  rot  upon  the  earth 
for  want  of  hands  to  gather  in  the  harvest.  In  this  month  of 
January  many  thousands  of  acres  of  produce  are  still  unhar- 
vested ;  and  the  cattle,  looking  like  pigmies  amid  the  lofty 
stalks  of  twelve  or  fourteen  feet  high,  are  turned  in  to  feed  at 
their  leisure  and  their  pleasure.  The  land  rolls  in  beautiful 
swelling  hills,  fit  for  the  cultivation  of  the  vine,  and  already 
crowned  with  many  noble  vineyards.  From  Columbus  to  Cin- 
cinnati— another  ride  of  140  miles — the  country  is  of  the  same 
rich,  fertile,  and  beautiful  character — so  beautiful,  so  rich,  so 
well  calculated  for  the  happy  sustenance  of  twenty  or  thirty 
millions  of  the  human  race,  instead  of  two  millions  only  who 
now  inhabit  and  endeavor  to  cultivate  it,  as  to  recall  the  say- 
ing of  the  governor  of  the  neighboring  State  of  Indiana,  who 
declared,  with  a  profanity  which  drew  upon  him  a  clerical  re- 
buke, that  "  the  Almighty  must  have  been  in  a  good  humor 
when  he  created  Indiana  and  Ohio."  This  commonwealth  is 
nearly  as  large  as  England,  and  has  natural  resources  enabling 
it  to  feed  as  great  a  population  as  that  of  the  British  Isles. 
It  is  the  favorite  resort  of  the  German  immigration,  and  is  es- 
timated to  number  about  500,000  of  that  people,  of  whom 
about  one  fourth  are  Jews. 


i  I 


"THE  QUEEN  CITY  OP  THE  WEST." 


125 


CHAPTER  XVI. 
"the  queen  city  of  the  west." 

Cincinnati,  January  27,  1858. 

Cincinnati  is  as  yet  the  greatest  city  of  the  "  Great  West." 
How  long  it  will  remain  so  depends  on  the  progress  of  popu- 
lation in  Missouri,  and  in  the  city  of  St.  Louis,  on  the  Missis- 
sippi, which  many  persons  who  fancy  they  look  "  ahead"  much 
farther  than  their  neighbors  declare  to  be  the  central  city  of 
the  Confederation,  and  the  future  capital  of  the  United  States. 
But  a  few  years  ago,  Cincinnati  was  the  Ultima  Thule  of  civ- 
ilization. All  beyond  it  was  wilderness  and  prairie.  Behind 
it  stretched  the  unbroken  forest,  where  the  Bed  Man  prowled, 
tomahawk  in  hand,  or  the  illimitable  plains,  where  roared  and 
fed  countless  herds  of  scarcely  more  savage  buffaloes.  The 
man  is  yet  living,  in  hale  old  age,  who  felled  the  first  tree  in 
Ohio,  and  helped  to  clear  the  ground  on  which  now  stands 
what  its  inhabitants  call  the  "  Queen  City  of  the  West." 
Cincinnati  is  estimated  to  have  a  population  of  nearly  250,000 
souls ;  contains  miles  of  well-built  and  handsome  streets,  many 
stores,  banks,  and  warehouses,  public  institutions,  worthy  by 
their  architectural  beauty  to  adorn  any  metropolis  in  the  world, 
and  about  one  hundred  churches,  chapels,  and  synagogues.  Of 
the  churches  but  two  have  any  pretensions  to  elegance  or 
splendor.  One  is  the  Episcopal  Church,  as  yet  unfinished ;  and 
the  other  the  Roman  Catholic  Cathedral  of  St.  Peter's,  built 
of  white  freestone,  and  deserving  to  rank  among  the  finest 
ecclesiastical  edifices  in  America. 

The  original  name  of  Cincinnati  is  said  by  the  original  set- 
tlers, and  such  of  their  descendants  as  can  carry  their  memo- 
ries back  to  such  remote  antiquity,  to  have  been  Losantivillc. 
It  was  the  intention  of  the  first  immigrants  and  backwoods- 
men to  build  a  city  at  North  Bend,  eighteen  miles  higher  up 
the  river.    But  Fate  and  Love  (for  there  is  a  love-story  in 


IV  k, 


V:h 


120 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


the  history)  willed  it  otherwise.  The  United  States'  officer 
in  command  at  North  Bend  having  become  enamored  of  the 
young  wife  of  an  old  pioneer,  the  lady  was  removed  by  her 
husband  to  Fort  Washington,  where  Cincinnati  now  stands. 
The  gallant  ofliccr  followed  shortly  afterward,  and  reported 
officially  that  Fort  Washington,  and  not  North  Bend,  was  the 
proper  site  for  a  military  station  and  city.  His  influence  or 
his  reasons  prevailed.  North  Bend  was  abandoned,  and  Fort 
Washington  became  the  site  of  the  future  city  of  Cincinnati, 
or,  as  the  Americans  generally  pronounce  it,  Sinsnahta.  The 
name  was  changed  a  short  time  after  its  foundation  to  that 
which  it  now  bears,  in  honor  of  the  society  of  "  the  Cincin- 
nati." It  is  the  sixth  city  of  the  Union  for  population,  wealth, 
and  commerce,  ranking  immediately  after  New  York,  Phila- 
delphia, Baltimore,  Boston,  and  New  Orleans.  It  is  crowned 
with  a  coronal  of  perpetual  and  very  dense  black  smoke,  so 
black  and  dense  as  almost  to  hide  it  from  the  view  of  the  spec- 
tator passing  over  in  the  ferry-boat  to  the  Kentucky  shore,  or 
looking  down  upon  it  from  the  adjacent  height  of  Mount  Adams 
and  the  hill  of  the  Observatory.  Next  to  Manchester  and  the 
great  manufacturing  towns  of  Yorkshire,  Lancashire,  and  Staf- 
fordshire, it  may  be  called  the  smokiest  city  in  the  world,  and 
in  this  respect  far  murkier  than  London,  and  far  murkier  than 
any  city  ought  to  be  allowed  to  remain  in  a  civilized  country, 
and  in  an  age  of  scientific  progress  and  sanatory  improvement. 
But,  disagreeable  as  the  smoke  of  Cincinnati  may  be,  it  affords 
an  unmistakable  proof  of  its  industrial  and  commercial  activ- 
ity. The  city  contains  several  large  manufactories  of  railway 
cars  and  locomotives ;  a  distillery,  which  produces  whisky  and 
alcohol  at  the  rate  of  2500  barrels  per  week,  a  large  proportion 
of  which  lately  found  its  way  to  France,  to  aid  in  tlie  manu- 
facture of  "native"  cogniac;  two  or  three  manufactories  of 
household  furniture  for  the  supply  of  the  "  Far  West ;"  and 
many  minor  establishments  for  the  manufacture  of  agricultural 
implements  and  tools. 

But  the  chief  wealth  of  Cincinnati  is  derived  from  the  hogs 
raised  in  the  rich  agricultural  districts  of  Ohio,  and  slaughter- 
ed here  to  the  number  of  about  600,000  annually.     The 


"THE  QUEEN  ClTl  OF  THE  WEST." 


127 


Rlftughter-houses  are  the  great  curiosities  of  the  place ;  but, 
having  a  respect  for  hog  as  an  article  of  diet,  and  relishing,  at 
fitting  seasons,  both  the  ham  and  the  rasher  of  bacon, '.  ould 
not  impair  that  respect  or  diminish  that  relish  by  witnessing 
the  wholesale  slaughter  of  the  animal,  however  scientifically 
the  slaughtering  might  be  ctTccted.  I  therefore  left  the 
slaughter-houses  unvisited,  contented  to  l)clicve,  upon  hearsay, 
the  marvelous  tales  which  are  related  of  the  dexterity  of  the 
slaughterers,  who,  armed  with  heavy  hammers,  which  they 
hold  in  both  hands,  are  sometimes  known  to  stun  as  many  as 
sixty  hogs  in  a  minute,  leaving  them  in  that  state  to  an  as- 
sistant butcher,  who,  with  almost  equal  rapidity,  follows  in 
their  wake,  and  cuts  their  tliroats  before  they  have  time  to  re- 
cover from  the  stunning  blow  and  vent  their  alarm  by  a  sin- 
gle shriek.  The  600,000  hogs  slaughtered  in  the  city  are 
converted  into  packed  merchandise  with  less  noise  than  often 
attends  the  killing  of  one  porker  in  the  farmsteads  of  England. 
From  the  moment  when  the  hog  received  the  first  hammer- 
stroke  until  it  w^s  singed,  cleaned,  cut  up,  placed  in  brine,  and 
packed  in  a  cask  for  exportatfon,  not  more  than  two  hours 
were  formerly  suifered  to  elapse.  But  this  celerity,  being 
unntitural,  led  to  mischief.  The  pork,  drowned  in  brine  be- 
fore it  had  time  to  become  cold,  caused  a  fermentation  in  the 
pickle,  and  this  fermentation,  in  its  turn,  caused  a  disease  in 
the  pork  which  was  called  measles,  and  which,  whether  de- 
serving or  not  of  this  appellation,  rendered  it  unwholesome. 
Much  injury  was  thus  done  to  the  trade.  The  cause  of  the 
mischief  was  fully  reported  upon  by"the  British  consul  at  New 
Orleans  ;  and  the  men  of  Cincinnati,  made  wise  by  experience, 
now  stay  their  hands  and  allow  the  pork  to  cool  before  they 
pickle  it. 

All  Cincinnati  is  redolent  of  swine.  Swine  prowl  about  the 
streets  and  act  the  part  of  scavengers  until  they  are  ready  to  be- 
come merchandise  and  vir»it  Europe.  Swine  are  driven  into 
it  daily  and  haurly  by  every  avenue,  but  not  one  of  them  ever 
goes  out  again  alive.  Barrels  of  them  line  all  the  quays ; 
cartloads  of  their  carcasses  traverse  the  city  at  all  seasons;  and 
palaces  and  villas  are  built,  and  vineyards  and  orchards  culti- 


■■ .  ^%Af4^ 


'■ 


■ 

■■ 

1 

il 

?! 

i 

'■-, 

■;'-.'.; 

^ 

^;'j 

>r;:l 

m 

I 

128 


LIFE  AND   LIBERTY   IN   AMERICA. 


im 


vated,  out  of  tlio  procccdn  of  their  flesh,  their  bones,  their  hird, 
their  bristles,  and  their  feet. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  pork  trade,  the  feet  and  entrails  of 
the  Bwino  were  cast  as  rubbish  on  to  the  quays  and  streets,  or 
swept  into  the  waters  of  the  Ohio,  to  be  thence  transferred, 
via  the  Mississippi,  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  But  the  Cincin- 
natians  have  learned  more  wisdom,  and  not  the  smallest  por- 
tion of  the  animal  Ls  now  allowed  to  be  wasted.  The  entrails 
are  boiled  into  lard ;  the  feet  arc  prepared  as  an  article  of 
food,  or  stewed  into  glue ;  and  the  blood,  carefully  collected, 
is  used  for  various  chemical  purposes,  besides  being  employed 
in  the  manufacture  of  black-puddings  for  home  consumption. 
The  average  value  of  the  hog  before  he  is  slaughtered  is  about 
ten  dollars,  or  £2  sterling,  so  that  from  this  source  alone  one 
million  and  a  quarter  sterling  is  annually  brought  in(/>  the 
purees  of  the  farmers  and  people  of  Ohio  and  of  its  chi^f  com- 
mercial city  of  Cincinnati.  So  plentiful  are  swine  in  Ohio,  so 
much  more  plentiful  and  cheap  in  some  parts  than  coals,  that 
ere  now  pork  has  been  burned  instead  of  fuel  to  keep  up  the 
fires  of  steam-boats  on  the  Ohio.  Only  three  days  ago  I  read 
a  newspaper  paragraph  in  reprobation  of  such  cruel  extrav- 
agance. 

Another  source  of  wealth  has  recently  been  developed  in 
Ohio,  chiefly  by  the  skill,  enterprise,  and  public  spirit  of  one 
man,  Mr.  Nicholas  Longworth,  to  whom  America  owes  the 
introduction  of  the  grape  culture  for  the  purpose  of  wine- 
making. 

With  its  endless  varieties  of  soil,  and  with  climates  of  all 
degrees  of  heat  and  cold ;  in  some  parts  sunny  as  Naples, 
Spain,  and  Barbary,  and  in  others  as  temperate  as  France  and 
Germany,  it  was  to  be  expected  that  America  possessed  one 
or  more  indigenous  grapes.  Mr.  Longworth,  of  whom  and  of 
whose  exertions  in  the  cause  of  temperance  and  of  good  wine 
I  might  say  much  more  than  space  and  time  will  allow,  has 
calculated  that  the  varieties  of  grapes  in  America  amount  to 
no  less  than  the  almost  incredible  number  of  five  thousand. 
But  no  one  knew  how  to  turn  the  boundless  treasure  to  proper 
account,  for  the  production  of  it  lay  upon  the  surface,  but 


"the  QrsEN  crnr  or  the  west.' 


120 


might  as  well  have  been  like  the  pearls  that  Gray  sings  of — 
perdu  in  the  dark,  unfathoined  caves  of  ocean,  until  Mr.  Ix>ng- 
worth  api)carcd.  And  then  the  hilLs  gushed  into  fertility,  and 
the  world  received  the  gift  of  Catawba. 

Tlie  earliest  mention  of  the  vino  in  America  dates  as  far 
back  as  15G4,  when  wines  were  made  both  in  Florida  and 
J^ouisiana.  The  Jesuits — men  with  keen  eyes  to  spy  out  the 
fatness  of  the  land,  and  who,  in  all  countries,  have  proved 
themselves  skillful  cultivators  of  the  soil,  were  among  the  first 
to  appropriate  gootl  locations  to  themselves  and  to  plant  vine- 
yards. Unluckily,  the  French  government  of  that  day,  through 
a  stupid  feeling  of  jealousy,  ordered  all  the  vineyards  of  Lou- 
isiana to  be  destroyed,  lest  American  wines  should  compete 
injuriously  with  those  of  France  in  the  markets  of  the  world. 
AVere  it  not  for  this  barbarous  folly,  the  Southern  States  of 
the  Union  might  long  ago  have  produced  wine  as  well  as  cot- 
ton, rice,  and  sugar.  But,  in  consequence  of  the  absolute 
nature  of  the  prohibition,  the  vineyards  were  abandoned,  and 
the  wild  grapes  of  the  North  American  continent  were  left  to 
their  own  vagrant  fancies,  to  be  eaten  by  the  wolf  and  the  fox, 
or  the  Red  Indian,  undisturbed  by  the  care  or  the  pruning- 
knife  of  the  vintager. 

John  Bull  loves  his  beer,  and  cares  but  little  for  wine. 
When  he  can  afford  the  juice  of  the  grape,  he  likes  it  strong. 
There  was  a  time,  if  we  are  to  rely  upon  tradition,  and  upon 
the  evidence  of  old  songs  and  ballads,  when  the  favorite  drinb 
of  the  upper  classes  was  claret ;  and  next  to  claret,  Burgundy. 
But  the  famous  treaty  concluded  with  Portugal  in  1759,  and 
known  as  the  Methuen  Treaty,  introduced  unsuspecting  John 
to  a  new  and  more  potent  beverage  called  Port,  and  vitiated 
the  national  taste.  Most  people  remember  the  epigram  as 
regards  the  effect  which  Port  wine  had  upon  the  Scotch : 

"Fii'm  and  erect  the  Caledonian  stood, 
His  meat  was  mutton,  and  his  claret  good. 
'Let  him  drink  Port!'  the  British  statesman  cried: 
He  drank  the  poison,  and  his  spirit  died !" 

John  Bull  is  now,  unluckily,  so  accustomed  to  the  full-bodied, 
brandied  wines  of  Portugal  and  Spain,  that  he  does  not  ap- 

F2 


ik 


m  ^ 


r^ 


it.- 


'.:■>,-  Ji 


180 


LITE  AND  LTBERTY   IN  AMERICA. 


prcciato  the  lipht,  harmless  wines  of  France  and  Gennany. 
As  for  the  wines  of  Cincinnati,  scarcely  one  Englishman  in 
ten  thousand  has  ever  heard  of  them.  The  hito  Duko  of 
Wellington,  who,  if  we  arc  to  IwUevc  some  of  his  over-ardent 
admirers,  knew  every  thing,  and  was  as  universal  a  penius  as 
Shaksjiearc,  was  in  this  respect  in  advance  of  his  countrymen. 
lie  had  tasted  Catawba  wine ;  for,  when  a  gentleman  from 
Cincinnati  was  introduced  to  him  two  years  before  ho  die<l, 
he  said,  "Oh,  I  know  Cincinnati,  It  is  the  rej*idencc  of  Miss 
Grocslxjck,  and  is  famous  for  Sparkling  Catawba ;  Catawba's 
a  good  wine  !'* 

It  was  not  until  the  year  1799  that  the  grape  culture  ex- 
cited much  attention  in  America.  Shortly  before  that  time 
the  wild  "  sand"  grape,  that  grew  on  the  banks  of  the  Ohio 
in  great  profusion,  was  subjected  to  the  wine-press  by  sonio 
French  settlers  in  the  Marietta  District.  This  wine,  even 
at  that  early  period,  was  pronounced  to  be  almost  equal  to 
Rhenish.  The  late  Mr.  John  Dufour,  one  of  the  Swiss  pi- 
oneers who  emigrated  to  America  in  1805,  improved  upon  tlio 
efforts  of  his  predecessor.  But  the  progress  of  the  new  thing 
was  slow,  and  it  was  not  till  some  years  after  the  death  of  this 
gentleman  that  the  real  Bacchus  of  the  West  appeared  in  the 
person  of  Mr.  Nicholas  Longworth,  of  Cincinnati — a  man 
whom  the  Greeks  would  have  apotheosized ;  and  who,  if  he 
had  lived  two  thousand  years  ago,  and  done  as  much  for  his 
•country  and  the  world  as  he  has  done  in  our  day,  would  have 
been  ranked  among  heroes  and  demi-gods,  and  loomed  largely 
on  our  imaginations  through  the  haze  and  mist  of  antiquity. 
Like  Bacchus  of  old,  he  has  taught  the  people  how  to  cultivate 
and  press  the  grape,  and  to  use  it  for  health,  and  strength,  and 
length  of  days.  Mr.  Longworth,  considering  the  variety  of 
soil  and  climate  in  America,  and  the  abundance  of  wild  grapes 
that  grow  from  Virginia  southward  and  westward,  arrived  at 
the  conclusion — which  proved  to  be  a  sound  one — that  if  wine 
could  be  produced  in  the  Old  World,  it  could  also  be  produced 
in  the  New.  Thirty  or  forty  years  ago  he  made  some  experi- 
ments with  French  and  German  grapes,  but  they  were  failures, 
as  many  great  enterprises  are  at  their  commencement.     In  a 


"THE  QUEEN  HTY  OP  THE   WKOT."  131 


letter  to  the  Cincinnati  Horticultumi  Society  datc<l  three  yean 
bftck,  ho  Niyv.  "  I  have  for  thirty  years  exi)cnmcntc(l  on  the 
foreign  gru|K»,  hoth  for  the  table  and  for  wine.  In  the  accli- 
mation of  phints  I  do  not  believe,  for  the  "NVhito  Swoet  Water 
does  not  nuccoed  as  well  with  nic  a.s  it  did  thirty  years  since. 
I  obtainotl  :\  largo  variety  of  French  gra|)eH  from  Mr.  Loubat 
many  years  since.  They  were  from  the  vicinity  of  Paris  and 
Bordeaux.  From  Madeira  I  obtained  six  thousand  vines  of 
their  iKJst  wine  grapes.  Not  ono  was  found  wortliy  of  cultiva- 
tion in  this  latitude,  and  all  were  rooted  from  the  vineyards. 
As  a  last  experiment,  I  imijortcd  seven  thousand  vines  from 
the  mountains  of  Sura,  in  the  vicinity  of  Salins,  in  France. 
At  that  point  the  vino  region  suddenly  ends,  and  many  vines 
are  there  cultivated  on  the  north  side  of  the  mountain,  where 
the  ground  is  covered  with  snow  the  whole  winter  long,  from 
three  to  four  feet  deep.  Nearly  nil  lived,  and  embraced  about 
twenty  varieties  of  the  most  celebrated  wine  grapes  of  France. 
But,  after  a  trial  of  five  years,  I  was  obliged  to  throw  them 
all  away.  I  also  imported  samples  of  \v  ine  made  from  all  the 
grapes  of  Europe.  One  variety  alone — the  celebrated  Arbois 
wine,  which  partakes  slightly  of  Champagne  character — would 
compete  with  our  Catawba." 

The  results  of  Mr.  Longworth's  hopeful  perseverance,  in- 
domitable energy,  and  long  experience,  not  only  in  his  own 
city  and  neighborhood  jof  Cincinnati,  but  elsewhere  on  the 
American  continent,  were,  that  he  abandoned  the  European 
grape,  and  selected  out  of  the  5000  indigenous  varieties  eighty- 
three.  From  these  eighty-three  he  again  selected  twelve  as 
alone  fit  for  the  production  of  wine.  These  twelve  were  the 
Catawba,  the  Cape,  the  Isabella,  the  Bland's  IVIadeira,  the 
Oliio,  the  Lenoir,  the  Missouri,  the  Norton's  Seedling,  the 
Ilerbemont's  Madeira,  the  Minor  Seedling,  the  White  Cataw- 
ba, and  the  Mammoth  Catawba. 

Having  resolved  to  concentrate  his  attention  upon  Cataw- 
ba, with  its  rich  muscadine  flavor,  first  found  growing  on  the 
banks  of  the  Catawba  River  in  Carolina,  he  succeeded,  about 
ten  years  ago,  in  producing  out  of  it  the  Sparkling  Catawba 
wine,  which  competent  judges,  who  have  tasted  all  the  wines 


IS 


m 


I    \j 


182 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


I II  (II 


of  the  world,  declare  to  be  equal  to  any  sparkling  wines  which 
Europe  can  boast,  whether  they  come  from  the  Rhine  or  the 
Moselle,  or  from  the  Champagne  districts  of  France.  Per- 
haps these  pages  will  be  tho  first  intimation  that  the  English 
people  will  receive  of  the  existence  of  this  bounty  of  nature ; 
but  there  is  no  risk  of  false  prophecy  in  the  prediction  here 
hazarded,  that  not  many  years  will  elapse  before  both  the  dry 
and  tho  sparkling  Catawba  will  be  recognized  in  Europe,  as 
they  are  in  America,  as  among  the  purest  of  all  wines,  except 
claret  and  Burgundy.  No  red  wines  of  any  great  delicacy  or 
value  have  been  produced  in  Ohio,  or  any  other  state  of  the 
Union  ;  but  Mr.  Longworth,  Mr.  Robert  Buchanan,  Mr.Werk, 
and  other  eminent  growers  near  Cincinnati,  are  of  opinion 
that  wines  equal  both  to  red  and  white  Burgundy  will  bo 
successfully  grown  in  Ohio,  South  Carolina,  and  California. 
As  yet  there  are  no  symptoms  in  America  that  the  clarets  of 
France  will  ever  be  surpassed  or  equaled.  But  far  different 
is  it  with  French  Champagne,  who  as  the  Queen  of  Wines 
must  yield  her  sceptre  and  throne  to  one  purer  and  brighter 
than  she,  who  sits  on  the  banks  of  the  Ohio,  and  whom  Mr. 
Longworth  serves  as  chief  adviser  and  prime  minister. 

Longfellow,  worthy  to  celebrate  the  wines  of  Longworth, 
sings  of  Catawba : 

"  This  song  of  mine 

Is  a  song  of  the  vine, 
To  be  sung  by  the  glowing  embers 

Of  wayside  inns 

When  the  rain  begins 
To  darken  the  drear  Novembers. 


sif .  ' 


**  For  richest  and  best 

Is  the  wine  of  the  West, 
That  grows  by  the  beautiful  river, 

Whose  sweet  perfume 

Fills  all  the  room 
With  a  benison  on  the  giver." 

Mr,  Longfellow  maintains,  with  all  the  fervor  of  an  Amer- 
ican as  well  as  of  a  poet,  that  European  wines  are  drugged 
and  poisoned;  that  Port  bums,  and  is  the  mother  of  po- 
dagra ;  that  sherry  is  a  sham,  and  that  Champagne  is  a  vile 


"THE  QUEEN  CITY  OP  THE  WEST." 


133 


concoction,  bom  of  turnips  and  of  gooseberries,  not  of  the 
vine: 

*'  Dragged  is  their  juico 
For  foreign  use, 
When  shipped  o'er  the  reeling  Atlantic, 
To  rack  our  brains 
With  the  fever  pains 
That  have  driven  the  Old  World  frantic. 
*  *  ♦  ♦ 

**To  the  sewers  and  sinks 
With  all  such  drinks, 
And  after  them  tumble  the  mixer!" 

But  not  so  with  Catawba ;  for  Catawba  is  pure.  Hear,  ye 
lovers  of  wholesome  drink,  another  ditty  from  a  native  of  the 
Old  Country,  who  knows  how  to  appreciate  the  dainty  lux- 
uries of  the  New : 

CATAWBA  WINE. 

♦'  Ohio's  green  hill-tops 

Glow  bright  in  the  sun, 
And  yield  us  more  treasure 

Than  Hhine  or  Garonne ; 
They  give  us  Catawba, 

The  pure  and  the  true, 
As  radiant  as  sunlight, 

As  soft  as  the  dew, 
And  fragrant  as  gardens 

When  summer  is  new : 
Of  all  the  glad  vintage 

The  purest  and  best, 
Catawba  the  nectar 

And  balm  of  the  West  I 

"  Champagne  is  too  often 

A  trickster  malign, 
That  flows  from  the  apple, 

And  not  from  the  vine. 
But  thou,  my  Catawba, 

Art  mild  as  a  rose, 
And  sweet  as  the  lips 

Of  my  love,  when  they  close 
To  give  back  the  kisses 

My  passion  bestows. 
Thou'rt  bom  of  the  vintage, 

And  fed  on  its  breast, 
Catawba  the  nectar 

And  balm  of  the  West ! 


|K- 


it     i 


||:! 


^:il 


'■,     t 


134 


LIFE   AND   LIBERTY   IN   AMERICA. 


|Hi 


"When  ]>lcdging  the  lovely, 

This  sparkler  we'll  kiss  ; 
When  drinking  to  true  hearts, 

We'll  toast  them  in  this  ; 
For  Catawha  is  like  them, 

Though  tender,  yet  strong, 
As  pleasant  as  morning, 

And  soft  as  a  song, 
Whose  delicate  beauty 

The  echoes  prolong, 
(^itawba  1     Ilcart-warmer ! 

Soul-cheerer !    Life-zest ! 
Catawba  the  nectar 

And  balm  of  the  West  I" 

Mr.  Longvvorth's  son-in-law  kindly  gave  our  party  an  invi- 
tation to  accompany  liim  on  a  visit  to  the  vineyards.  They 
are  situated  on  a  hill-top  and  slope  overlooking  the  windings 
of  the  beautiful  Ohio — beautiful  at  a  distance,  but  somewhat 
thick  and  turbid  on  a  close  inspection.  We  there  found  an 
old  soldier  of  Napoleon,  from  Saxe-Weiniar,  who  fought  at 
Waterloo,  and  afterward  retired  to  his  native  fields  to  culti- 
vate the  vine.  Mr.  Longworth  having  sent  to  Europe  for  per- 
sons skilled  in  the  manufacture  of  Khenish  and  Moselle  wines, 
had  the  fortune  to  discover  this  excellent  old  man,  good  sol- 
dier, and  skillful  vintager.  Soon  after  his  arrival  he  was 
placed  in  the  responsible  position  of  chief  wine-maker  and  su- 
perintendent under  Mr.  Longworth.  Under  the  guidance  of 
this  venerable  gentleman — Mr.  Christian  Schnicke — we  trav- 
ersed the  vineyards,  learned  the  difficulties  he  had  surmount- 
ed and  yet  hoped  to  surmount;  the  varieties  of  grape  on 
which  he  had  made  experiments ;  the  names  of  the  wines  he 
had  succeeded  in  producing,  and  the  number  of  acres  that, 
year  after  year,  he  brought  under  cultivation.  We  ended  by 
repairing  to  his  domicil,  on  the  crown  of  the  hill,  where  he 
set  before  us  bread  and  cheese,  and  a  whole  constellation  of 
native  wines.  Among  others  were  Dry  Catawba  and  Spark- 
ling Catawba,  both  excellent ;  a  not  very  palatable  wine  pro- 
duced from  grapes  imported  from  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope ; 
and  two  other  wines  almost  equal  to  Catawba  itself — one  from 
the  grape  called  the  Isabella,  rosy-red  as  the  morning,  and 


Vj    I 


m 


r«'  i 


m... 


"the  queen  city  of  the  west." 


187 


sparkling  as  the  laughter  of  a  cliild ;  the  other  a  dry  wine, 
of  a  pale  amber  color,  clear,  odoriferous,  and  of  most  delicate 
flavor,  and  almost  equal  to  Johannisberger.  This  wine,  it 
appeared,  had  not  arrived  at  the  honors  of  a  name ;  wits  not 
known  to  commerce ;  and  wa«  simply  designated  by  Mr. 
Schnicke  as  the  wine  of  the  IVIinor  Seedling  grape.  As  so 
excellent  a  beverage  could  not  remain  forever  without  a  name, 
it  received  one  on  this  occasion  in  the  manner  recorded  by 
Colonel  Fuller  in  the  following  extract  from  a  letter  to  the 
New  Orleans  Picayune :  "  On  visiting  Mr.  Longworth's  vine- 
yard in  the  neighborhood  of  Cincinnati,  vineyards  which  yield 
from  six  to  seven  hundred  gallons  to  the  acre,  we  found  the 
'boss'  to  be  an  old  soldier  of  Napoleon  the  Great,  and  as  de- 
voted to  the  memory  of  the  emperor  as  he  is  enthusiastic  in 
the  culture  of  the  vine.  Producing  a  very  choice  brand  of 
the  color  of  amber,  and  with  a  bouquet  that  filled  the  room, 
called  the  wine  of  the  Minor  Seedling,  objection  was  taken  to 
the  name,  but  not  to  the  article ;  so  it  was  there  and  then 
christened  'Mackay'  wine,  in  honor  of  the  poet  who  was 
present.  Mr.  Longworth  afterward  confirmed  the  new  name 
in  a  prose  as  well  as  a  poetical  epistle." 

It  is,  to  some  extent,  owing  to  the  increase  of  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the  vine  in  Ohio  that  so  many  Germans  have  settled 
in  Cincinnati  and  the  neighborhood.  There  are  about  fifty 
thousand  of  these  people  in  the  city,  of  whom  one  fourth  are 
Jews.  The  Germans  inhabit  a  district  of  their  own,  over  the 
Miami  Canal,  which  runs  through  a  district  of  Cincinnati. 
To  this  canal  they  have  given  the  name  of  the  Rhine,  and  on 
its  banks  they  have  erected  concert-gardens  such  as  they  have 
in  Germany.  Here,  embowered  unter  den  Lauhen,  they  con- 
gregate on  Sunday  evenings,  the  old  stagers  with  wooden 
shoes  on  their  feet  and  night-caps  on  their  heads,  and  the 
young  in  a  more  cosmopolitan  costume,  to  drink  lager  beer, 
smoke  long  pipes,  and  sing  the  songs  of  "  Fatherland."  They 
have  also  erected  a  German  theatre,  established  German 
schools,  and  one  or  two,  if  not  more,  German  newspapers. 

It  should  not  be  omitted  from  this  record  of  Catawba  and 
the  vintage  of  America  that  Mr.  Longworth  was  the  first  friend 


.;      1 


188 


LIFE   AND   LIBERTY  IN   AMERICA, 


of  Mr.  Hiram  Powers,  po  well  known  as  the  sculptor  of  the 
"  Greek  Slave."  Mr.  l*owers,  as  he  takes  pleasure  in  remem- 
l)ering,  was  greatly  aided  in  the  early  struggles  of  his  profes- 
sional career  by  Mr.  Longworth.  Nor  is  Hiram  Powers  the 
only  artist  whom  the  Western  Bacchus  has  befriended,  for 
Mr.  Ix>ngv/orth  uses  his  great  wealth  to  noble  purposes,  and 
never  more  willingly  than  in  aiding  the  artist  of  genius  up 
those  few  first  steps  of  the  ladder  of  fame  which  it  is  always 
difficult,  and  sometimes  impossible,  to  climb. 


111! 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


ST.  LOUIS,  MISSOURI. 


St.  Louis,  Jan.  31st,  1858. 
Westward — ever  westward  !  After  no  less  than  four  ac- 
cidents to  our  train  on  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  Railway,  hap- 
pily involving  no  other  evil  consequences  than  the  smashing 
of  the  company's  engine  and  two  or  three  cars,  the  sacrifice  of 
many  valuable  hours,  and  the  loss  of  an  amount  of  patience 
difficult  to  estimate,  though  once  possessed  by  all  the  passen- 
gers, myself  included,  we  arrived  at  the  miserable  village, 
though  called  a  city,  of  JefTersonville,  in  Indiana,  nearly  oppo- 
site to  Louisville,  in  Kentucky,  on  the  River  Ohio.  The  train 
was  due  at  an  early  hour  of  the  afternoon,  but  did  not  reach 
JefTersonville  until  half  past  nine  in  the  evening,  long  before 
which  time  the  steam  ferry-boat  had  ceased  to  ply,  and  the 
captain  of  which  refused  to  relight  the  fires  of  his  engines  to 
carry  the  passengers  across.  We  saw  the  lights  c^  the  large 
city  gleaming  temptingly  across  the  stream,  but  there  being 
no  means  of  conveyance,  we  were  all  reluctantly  compelled 
to  betake  ourselves  to  the  best  inn  at  JefFersonville,  and  bad, 
very  bad,  was  the  best.  We  had  had  nothing  to  eat  or  to 
drink  all  day,  in  consequence  of  the  accident  to  our  train  hav- 
ing befallen  us  in  an  out-of-the-way  place,  and  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  wilderness ;  and  such  of  us  as  were  not  teetotal- 
ers looked  forward  to  a  comfortable  supper  and  glass  of  wine, 
or  toddy,  after  our  fatigue  and  disappointments.    But,  on  ask- 


ST.  LOriS,  MTSSOURT. 


130 


in"  for  supper  and  wine  at  the  hotel,  we  were  told  by  mine 
host  that  we  were  in  a  temperance  state,  and  that  nothing  in 
the  way  of  drink  would  !«  served  except  milk,  tea,  cotTee,  and 
lemonade.     A  thoufrhtful  friend  at  Cincinnati  had  given  us  on 
starting  a  bottle  of  IJourbon  whisky  twenty  years  old  ;  and 
we  told  mine  host  that,  if  he  would  provide  us  with  glasses, 
hot  water,  sugar,  and  a  corkscrew,  we  should  enjoy  his  meat, 
find  our  own  diink,  and  set  Fate  at  defiance.     Hot  water  he 
liad,  glasses  he  had,  sugar  he  had,  but  no  corkscrew.     Under 
the  circumstances,  he  advised  us  cither  to  break  off  the  neck 
of  the  bottle,  or  go  round  to  the  shop  of  the  apothecary  in  the 
adjoining  street.     lie  thought  that  personage  would  be  able 
to  draw  the  cork  for  us,  or  "  loan"  or  sell  us  a  corkscrew. 
Colonel  Fuller  and  myself  held  a  council  of  war,  and  resolved, 
lest  we  should  waste  the  liquor,  to  make  friends  with  the 
apothecary.     A  corkscrew  was  procured  from  that  respecta- 
ble practitioner — not  borrowed,  but  bought  and  paid  for,  and 
after  a  fair  supper,  and  some  excellent  toddy,  we  turned  into 
our  miserable  beds.     Next  morning  at  an  early  hour,  glad  to 
leave  Jeffersonville  and  all  that  belonged  to  it,  we  crossed  in 
the  steamer  to  Louisville,  and  once  more  found  ourselves  in  a 
land  of  plenty  and  comfort,  in  a  flourishing  city,  in  an  excel- 
lent hotel — the  "  Gait  House,"  one  of  the  best  conducted  es- 
tablishments in  America ;  in  a  state  where  the  Maine  Liquor 
Law  was  only  known  by  name,  and  where  it  was  not  neces- 
sary to  go  to  the  apothecary's  shop  to  obtain,  by  a  sneaking, 
hypocritical,  false  pretense,  the  glass  of  wine,  beer,  or  spirits 
that  custom,  taste,  health,  or  absolute  free-will  and  pleasure 
demanded. 

Louisville  is  the  principal  commercial  city  of  the  State  of 
Kentucky,  well  situated  on  the  Ohio,  and  having  direct  com- 
munication with  the  Mississippi,  and  with  all  the  immense  in- 
ternal navigation  of  these  great  rivers.  It  contains  a  popula- 
tion of  upward  of  60,000,  and  next  to  Cincinnati,  which  it  as- 
pires to  rival,  is  the  greatest  emporium  of  the  pork  trade  on 
the  North  American  continent.  The  annual  number  of  hogs 
slaughtered  here  is  nearly  300,000,  and  is  yearly  increasing. 

On  the  second  night  after  our  arrival,  I  and  my  fellow-trav- 


140 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


imW 


li 


eler  were  alarmed  several  hours  after  we  had  retired  to  rest 
by  the  loud  cry  of"  Fire !  fire  !"  several  times  repeated  in  the 
lobby  adjoining  our  rooms.  I  rushed  out  of  bed,  opened  the 
door,  and  saw  a  negro  woman  rushing  frantically  past.  She 
called  "  Fire !  fire !"  and  passed  out  of  sight.  Another  door 
was  opened,  and  a  woman's  voice  exclaimed,  "  It  is  not  in  the 
Gait  House  ;  there's  no  danger !"  In  the  mean  time,  as  quick 
as  thought,  an  uproar  of  bells  and  the  rattle  of  en^nes  were 
heard ;  and  knowing  how  frequent  fires  were  in  America,  and 
how  much  more  frequent  at  hotels  than  in  other  places,  wo 
prepared  ourselves  to  escape.  But,  by  the  blaze  that  S'lddenly 
illumined  our  bedrooms,  we  saw  that  the  conflagration  was 
at  the  opposite  "  block"  or  row  of  buildings,  at  a  manufactory 
of  naphtha  and  other  distilled  spirits.  The  fire  raged  till  long 
after  daylight,  and  all  efforts  to  subdue  it  being  utterly  futile, 
the  "  boys"  with  the  engines  directed  their  energies  to  save 
the  adjoining  buildings,  in  which  they  happily  succeeded.  At 
breakfast  in  the  morning  we  learned  from  the  negro  waiter 
who  attended  us  that  the  fire  had  proved  fatal  to  his  good  mas- 
ter. The  landlord  of  the  hotel  had  lain  for  three  days  previ- 
ously at  the  point  of  death,  and  the  noise  and  alarm  created 
by  the  fire,  and  the  dread  lest  it  should  extend  to  his  premises, 
had  acted  so  powerfully  on  his  weakened  frame  that  he  had 
expired  in  a  paroxysm  caused  by  the  excitement. 

There  is  nothing  to  detain  a  traveler  in  Louisville  unless  it 
be  private  friendship  and  hospitality,  of  both  of  which  we  had 
our  share.  After  three  days  we  took  our  departure  for  St. 
Louis,  but  found  it  as  difficult  to  quit  Louisville  as  it  had  been 
to  arrive  at  it.  We  crossed  to  Jeffersonville  to  take  the  train 
for  the  Mississippi,  and  were  in  the  cars  within  ten  minutes 
of  the  appointed  time.  We  had  not  proceeded  five  hundred 
yards  from  the  "depot,"  or  station,  when  our  locomotive, 
Vhich  happily  had  not  put  on  all  its  steam,  ran  off  the  rails, 
and  stuck  hard  and  dry  upon  the  embankment.  Here  we 
waited  two  hours  in  hope  of  assistance,  but  none  being  forth- 
coming, we  made  the  best  of  the  calamity,  and  returned  to  our 
old  quarters  at  Louisville  for  another  day.  On  the  morrow 
we  again  started  for  the  same  place ;  but  this  time  being  more 


•I     ,|li! 

tt"!!;' !  ill 


ST.  LOUIS,  Missouiir. 


141 


puccessful,  we  rnrivcd,  traveling  at  tho  rate  of  not  more  than 
fourteen  miles  an  hour,  at  tho  bank  of  the  great  river  Missis- 
sippi. For  a  week  previously  I  had  been  looking  forward 
with  pleasant  anticipation  to  tho  first  glimpse  of  the  "  Father 
of  Waters."  But  at  thih  i.oint  tho  scenery  is  not  picturesque. 
The  shores  arc  low,  flat,  and  unvaried  by  the  slightest  eleva- 
tion; but  the  stream  itself — broad,  rapid,  and  turbid,  and 
swarming  with  steam-boats  and  nver  craft — has  associations 
of  wealth  and  power  which  go  far  to  make  amends  for  the  ab- 
sence of  natural  beauty.  Cincinnati  was  at  no  remote  period 
the  Ultima  Thulc  of  civilization,  and  the  farthest  city  of  the 
West.  But  in  America  the  "  West"  is  very  difficult  to  fix. 
Ask  the  people  of  Cincinnati,  and  they  will  tell  you  it  is  at 
St.  Louis.  At  St.  Louis  it  is  in  the  new  territory  of  Kansas. 
At  Kansas  it  is  at  Utah,  the  paradise  of  the  Mormons.  At 
Utah  the  West  is  in  Oregon  ;  and  at  Oregon  it  is  in  Califor- 
nia or  Vancouver's  Island,  and  tho  shores  of  the  Pacific  Ocean. 
Every  one  remembers  Pope's  line — 

"  Ask  Where's  tho  North  ?    At  York,  His  on  tho  Tweed ;" 

and  how  he  ends  by  giving  up  the  inquiry  in  despair  of  an  an- 
swer, looking  for  it  only 

"  In  Nova  Zembla  or  tho  Lord  knows  where." 

In  America  tho  true  West  is  quite  as  difHcult  to  "  locate,"  and 
is  pushed  so  far  from  one  ocean  toward  the  other,  by  the  rest- 
less love  of  adventure,  by  the  auri  sacra  fames,  and  by  the 
"  go-ahead-ativeness"  characteristic  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race 
on  this  continent,  that  West  and  East  melt  insensibly  into 
each  other,  and  the  ultra-occidentalist  finds  himself  looking  at 
China  and  Japan  in  the  Far  East  before  he  is  aware  that  he 
has  reached  the  limit  of  his  researches. 

St.  Louis  remains,  next  to  Cincinnati,  the  greatest  city  of 
the  West ;  but,  as  its  growth  has  been  more  rapid  than  that 
of  its  sister  on  the  Ohio,  and  as  it  contains  within  itself  far 
greater  elements  of  prosperity  and  increase,  it  is  likely,  within 
a  few  years,  to  surpass  it  in  trade,  population,  and  extent.  It 
is  already  tho  largest  and  most  flourishing  place  between  Cin- 


142 


LIFE  AND   LIBEUTT  IN  AMEUICA. 


r   i 


ii  I  II 


,  n 


cinnati  and  San  Francisco,  and  will,  in  all  probability,  within 
a  quarter  of  a  century  contain  and  employ  hall'  a  inilliun  of 
people.  It  is  nituatcd  on  the  Mixsishippi,  alnjut  twenty  miles 
below  the  point  at  which  that  river,  pure  and  lucent  in  all  itM 
upper  course,  receives  the  dark  and  muddy  waters  of  the  Mis- 
souri. It  was  founded  so  early  as  the  year  174G,  by  Laclede, 
a  Frenchman,  and  named  in  honor  of  St.  Louis  of  France,  or, 
as  some  say,  of  Louis  X\^,  who,  though  a  Louis,  was  assur- 
edly no  saint.  Until  its  transfer  to  the  L'nited  States  in  1804, 
it  remained  a  village  of  a  few  log  huts,  inhabited  by  trappers, 
who  traded  with  the  red  men  for  the  spoils  of  the  forest, 
exchanging  bad  rum  and  execrable  brandy  for  peltry,  and  de- 
testable muskets,  warranted  not  to  go  off,  for  furs  that  sold 
exceedingly  well  in  the  markets  of  Europe.  The  first  brick 
house  in  St.  Louis  was  built  in  1813  ;  and  the  first  steam-boat 
arrived  at  its  levee,  or  quay,  in  1817,  having  taken  six  weeks 
to  ascend  the  Mississippi.  This  voyage  is  now  performed  in 
six  days ;  but,  before  the  introduction  of  steam,  when  flat- 
bottomed  boats  were  rowed,  or  otherwise  painfully  propelled 
up  the  stream,  it  occupied  from  six  to  seven  months.  After 
all,  America  need  not  crow  so  very  loudly  over  the  "  Old 
Country."  It  is  steam  that  has  been  the  making  of  them  both, 
and  given  them  their  wonderful  impulse.  Were  it  not  for 
steam,  what  would  be  England's  place  in  the  world?  And 
were  it  not  for  steam,  what  wouM  the  United  States  of  Amer- 
ica be  ?  England  would  be  better  off  than  the  United  States 
as  regards  wealth  and  population,  and  civilized  America  would 
be  a  mere  strip  on  the  seaboard,  as  k  was  in  the  days  of  Wash- 
ington, when  it  took  months  to  go  up  and  down  the  Mississippi, 
and  when  a  man  might  lose  not  only  his  time,  but  his  scalp, 
in  the  perilous  adventure.  It  was  not  until  1820,  when  the 
population  of  St.  Louis  was  under  5000,  that  the  place  became 
of  any  importance.  Twenty  years  afterward  the  population 
reached  17,000.  In  1852  it  exceeded  100,000,  and  in  1857 
it  was  variously  estimated  at  from  150,000  to  180,000.  It  is 
still  rapidly  increasing.  English,  Irish,  German,  and  the  sur- 
plus population  of  such  old  states  and  communities  as  Massa- 
chusetts, Connecticut,  and  others  in  New  England,  continually 


ST.  LOUIH,   MlSflOruI. 


143 


flock  into  it,  And  l)oynn(l  it,  to  ndd  to  itM  wealth,  and  to  de- 
velop the  resources  of  tin*  prcat  and  fiTtile  ro|L;ion}«  Iving  be- 
tween the  MiMt^iMHJppi  and  the  Kocky  Mountains,  iind  tlic  re- 
mote sources  of  the  Mi.«*souri.  Men  are  still  Ii\in^  in  the  city, 
owners  of  "  town  U)tf«,"  for  wliich  they  paid,  forty  years  ago, 
the  {lovernincnt  price  of  one  dollar  and  a  (juartcr  per  acre. 
These  lots,  in  consequence  of  the  enormous  rise  in  the  value 
of  real  estate,  arc  not  to  be  obtained  at  the  present  day  under 
six  hundred  or  sometimes  one  thousand  dollars  per  foot  front- 
age, and  are  covered  with  noble  buildings  and  lines  of  com- 
mercial palaces.  These  prosperous  citizens  and  millionaires 
deserve  their  good  fortune  ;  and  if  there  be  any  who  envy  them, 
they  go  out  into  the  back  woods,  still  farther  west,  in  the  hojio 
that  ecpial  luck  will  attend  their  own  speculations  in  land  and 
their  own  conflicts  with  the  border  savages.  Such  men  arc 
the  pioneers  of  civilization,  and  bear  the  brunt  and  heat  of  the 
battle.  In  early  life  they  hold  their  lands  on  ihe  sufferance 
of  tlie  Indians,  and  have  to  guard  their  possessions  like  be- 
leaguer ^d  fortresses  in  an  enemy's  country,  with  the  war- 
whoop  ringing  in  their  ears,  and  the  murderous  tomahawk 
suspended  continually  over  their  heads. 

St.  Louis,  via  Washington  and  Cincinnati,  is  about  1200 
miles  from  New  York,  20  miles  below  the  mouth  of  the  Mis- 
souri, and  174  miles  above  the  junction  of  the  Ohio  with  the 
Mississippi.  Above,  it  commands  the  navigation  of  the  Mis- 
souri for  nearly  2000  miles,  and  of  the  Mississippi  to  the  Falls 
of  St.  Anthony  for  750.  Below,  it  commands  the  Mississippi 
for  1295  miles  to  New  Orleans,  and  from  New  Orleans  to  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico,  94  miles.  Besides  this  extent  of  direct  riv- 
erine traffic,  it  commands  that  of  the  various  tributaries  of  the 
Mississippi ;  rivers,  many  of  them  larger  than  the  Rhine  or 
the  Danube,  such  as  the  Ohio,  navigable  from  its  junction  with 
the  Mississippi  at  Cairo,  to  Pittsburgh,  in  Pennsylvania,  a  dis- 
tance of  1000  miles ;  the  Red  River,  navigable  for  1 100  miles ; 
the  White  River,  for  400  miles ;  the  Tennessee,  for  600  miles ; 
the  Cumberland,  for  300  miles ;  the  Wabash,  for  300  miles  ; 
and  many  others  inferior  in  length  or  importance  to  these,  but 
navigable  for  a  hundred  or  two  hundred  miles  beyond  the 


144 


LIFE  AND   LIBEUTY   IN   AMERICA. 


sv.'i. 


J  ■  ii 


.<     „i;| 


tt"i; 


Sil'i  ']: 


point  of  their  conflucnco  with  the  larger  streams  to  which  they 
run. 

The  Icvoo  of  St.  Louis  extends  along  the  right  bank  of  the 
MissiHsippi  for  nearly  nix  miles,  alx)ut  half  of  which  length  is 
densely  built  upon.  No  city  in  the  world  oHerH  to  the  gaze  of 
the  s|»ectators  Huch  a  vast  asseniblnge  of  river  bteam-boats. 
Ah  many  as  one  hundred  and  neventy,  loading  and  unloading, 
have  been  counted  along  the  levee  at  one  time.  Tliese  ves- 
sels, which,  like  all  those  that  ply  on  the  Mississippi  and  the 
Ohio,  are  of  peculiar  construction,  painted  white,  and  with  two 
tall  black  fuiniels,  are  built  for  internal  traffic,  and  would  play 
but  a  sorry  part  in  the  salt  water  if  the  wind  blew  ever  so 
little.  But  for  riverine  purposes  they  arc  admirable,  and, 
were  it  not  for  the  occasional  mischance  of  a  collision  in  the 
fog,  or  the  still  more  frequent  casualty  of  a  blow-up  from  the 
bursting  of  a  boiler,  would  afford  the  traveler  the  safest,  as 
they  do  the  pleasantest,  mode  of  conveyance  in  America.  The 
people  of  St.  Louis  are  as  proud  of  their  steam-boats  as  of 
their  city.  One  of  them,  in  conversation  with  a  newly-arrived 
emigrant  from  the  "  Old  Country,"  who  had  discoursed  too 
well  and  too  wisely  to  please  his  listener  on  the  wealth,  pow- 
er, and  greatness  of  England,  put  a  stop  to  all  farther  argu- 
ment by  exclaiming,  like  a  man  of  large  ideas,  "  Darn  your 
little  island!  when  I  was  there  I  found  it  so  little  I  was 
afeerd  I  should  tumble  off.  Look  you,  sirree  1  we've  steam- 
boats enough  at  St.  Louis  to  tow  Great  Britain  out  into  the 
Atlantic  and  ^tick  her  fast — opposite  New  York  harbor!" 
But,  as  just  observed,  these  steamers  are  but  frail  affairs,  and 
one  hour  of  an  Atlantic  storm  would  be  sufficient  to  make 
wrecks  of  all  that  ever  plied  or  ever  will  ply  upon  the  drumly 
bosom  of  the  "  Father  of  Waters."  Had  the  "  Britisher"  thus 
rebuked  possessed  ideas  commensurate  with  those  of  his 
Yankee  friend,  he  might  have  rejoined  that  it  would  take  the 
combined  strength  of  all  the  steamers  between  St.  Louis  and 
New  Orleans  to  tow  the  Great  Eastern  from  Dover  to  Calais, 
and  that  the  whole  fleet  would  in  all  probability  perish  in  the 
gigantic  attempt. 

For  steam  tonnage  it  is  estimated  that  St.  Louis  is  the  third 


ST.  LOriS,  MISSOURI. 


146 


of  his 

ake  the 

lis  and 

I  Calais, 

in  the 


city  in  tho  Union.  New  York  ranks  fir^t,  with  n  tonnnj»c  in 
tlio  year  1851  of  101,478;  New  Orleans  pecoml,  with  r»  ton- 
nage of  57,117  ;  and  St.  IiO\ns  thinl,  with  a  tonnage  little  in- 
ferior to  that  of  New  Orleans  itself,  amounting  to  'I8,5.')7. 
Tho  manufactures  of  St.  Ix)uis  are  numerous  and  iin|)ortant, 
and  conipriiio  twenty  Hour-mills,  about  tho  name  nuinl)er  of 
saw-mills,  twonty-fivo  fotnuleries,  engine  and  Iwilor  manufac- 
tories and  machine-shops,  eight  or  ten  establishments  engaged 
in  tho  manufacture  of  railroad  cars  and  locomotives,  besides 
several  chemical,  soap,  and  candle  works,  and  a  celebrated 
type  foundery,  which  supplies  tho  whole  of  the  Far  AVcst  with 
the  types  that  arc  absolutely  necessary  to  tho  creation  of  all 
new  cities  in  the  wilderness.  A  church,  a  forge,  a  hotel,  and 
a  daily  newspaper — with  these  four,  aided  by  a  doctor  or  two, 
and  as  many  lawyers  and  bankers,  a  newly-named  city  will 
take  its  place  on  the  map,  and  speculators  who  have  bought 
land  at  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  per  acre  will  look  to  make  their 
fortunes  by  simply  holding  on  to  their  purchase  until  streets 
run  over  their  grounds,  and  they  become  in  America  such  men 
as  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  Lord  Portman,  and  the  Marquis  of 
Westminster  are  in  London,  and  Lord  Derby  in  his  town  of 
Preston. 

St.  Louis  contains  two  theatres,  and  the  two  finest  lecture- 
rooms  in  the  U'  od  States.  Tho  upper  and  lower  rooms  of 
the  Mercantile  library  Association  are  unrivaled  for  this  pur- 
pose ;  and  neither  New  York  nor  Boston  contains  any  lecture- 
rooms  at  all  to  be  compared  to  them  for  elegance  of  construc- 
tion and  decoration,  or  adaptability  to  the  end  proposed. 

Tho  city  contains  at  most  times  a  large  floating  population 
of  Englishmen — of  a  class  that  America  is  not  very  anxious 
to  receive,  and  is  at  this  moment  somc^  nat  puzzled  what  to 
do  with — the  Mormon  emigration.  These  fanatics,  who  arc 
mostly  recruited  from  the  manufacturing  districts  of  Wales 
and  the  north  and  middle  of  England,  with  a  few  from  Scot- 
land, make  St.  Louis  their  resting-place,  on  their  way  from 
New  York  to  the  Salt  Lake  City,  and  recruit  both  their  ener- 
gies and  their  finances  l)efore  starting  on  their  long  and  peril- 
ous overland  pilgrimage  to  Utah.     They  generally  remain 

G 


*^ 


!:-i 


^  t'^h 


m 

mm 


li;!, 


146 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


here  fqr  a  year,  and,  beinj^  for  the  most  part  expert  handi- 
craftsmen or  niechanicf*,  they  manage  without  much  difficulty 
to  procure  employment.  Those  who  have  no  trades  set  up 
small  grocery  stores,  or  betake  themselves  to  the  easy,  and,  in 
America,  most  profitable  occupation,  of  hackney-coach  drivers. 
Horses  are  cheap;  horse-feed  is  cheap;  but  riding  in  car- 
riages in  every  part  of  the  Union  is  most  exorbitantly  dear. 
The  Jehus,  having  no  law  to  control  them,  and  no  fear  of  po- 
liceman or  magistrate  before  their  eyes,  charge  exactly  what 
they  please.  To  drive  from  a  steam-boat  to  a  hotel  that  may 
happen  to  be  less  than  a  hundred  yards  distant  is  seldom  to 
be  accomplished  under  a  dollar ;  and  a  drive  which  in  London 
would  be  overpaid  at  two  shillings,  costs  two  dollars  in  any 
American  city  except  Boston,  which  in  this  respect  is  a  city 
of  law  and  order,  and  an  example  to  the  whole  of  the  Union. 
Either  at  this  profession  or  some  other  the  Mormons  make 
money,  and  generally  depart  from  St.  Louis  well  laden  with 
the  spoils  of  the  Gentiles,  leaving  the  next  batch  from  En- 
gland to  imitate  their  example. 

The  mineral  resources  of  St.  Louis  and  the  State  of  Mis- 
souri are  abundant.  About  eighty  miles  to  the  westward  of 
St.  Louis,  on  a  line  of  railway  which  is  nearly  completed,  exist 
two  hills  or  "  mountains"  of  iron  ore.  One  is  called  the  Iron 
Mountain,  and  the  other  the  Pilot  Knob.  The  base  of  the 
Iron  Mountain,  in  the  country  of  St.  Francis,  covers  an  area 
of  about  five  hundred  acres.  It  rises  to  a  height  of  about  270 
feet,  and  is  estimated  to  contain  above  the  surface  no  less  than 
200  millions  of  tons  of  iron  ore,  yielding  from  sixty-eight  to 
seventy  per  cent,  of  pure  iron.  The  ore  below  the  surface  is 
probably  quite  as  abundant.  Over  an  area  of  20,000  acres, 
in  the  plain  from  the  midst  of  which  this  singular  mountain 
rises,  are  scattered  huge  blocks  of  similar  formation,  some  of 
them  sharp-pointed  and  pyramidal,  and  deeply  imbedded  in 
the  earth ;  others,  unshapely  and  cumbrous,  are  lying  loose 
upon  the  soil,  and  seeming  as  if  they  had  dropped  from  tlie 
moon,  or  were  the  disjecta  membra  of  some  broken  asteroid 
wandering  in  too  close  proximity  to  the  sphere  of  the  earth's 
attraction,  and  dashed  to  pieces  in  their  fall  against  the  supe- 


t(  ' 


THE  MORMONS. 


147 


rior  planet,  where  they  have  at  length  found  a  resting-place. 
The  Pilot  Knob  is  eight  miles  further  to  the  west  of  St.  Louis, 
and  rises  to  the  height  of  seven  hundred  feet.  It  contains 
quite  OS  large  un  amount  of  iron  ore  as  the  Iron  Mountain, 
though  the  percentage  of  pure  iron  differs  by  one  or  two  de- 
grees. There  is  a  third  hill  in  the  vicinity,  called  the  Shep- 
herd Mountain,  which  is  almost  equally  rich  in  iron ;  besides 
a  plateau  covered  with  loose  iron  ore,  which  is  to  be  gathered 
in  nuggets  and  blocks  from  the  weight  of  one  or  two  pounds 
to  lumps  of  three  and  four  hundred.  As  Missouri  possesses 
coal  as  well  as  iron,  these  mountains  will  in  due  time  make 
her  richer  than  if  she  possessed  all  the  gold  of  California  or 
Australia.  Several  blast-furnaces  have  been  at  full  work  in 
this  region  for  the  last  four  years,  and  many  more  are  in  proc- 
ess of  erection. 

The  country  around  St.  Louis  contains  not  only  these  im- 
mense quantities  of  iron,  but  large  mines  of  copper  and  lead, 
and  some  excellent  quames  of  what  has  been  culled  "  Mis- 
souri marble."  Many  of  the  public  buildings  in  St.  Louis  are 
composed  of  this  stone,  which  is  of  a  brownish-gray  color,  and 
susceptible  of  a  high  polish.  Altogether  St.  Louis  is  one  of 
the  most  flourishing  places  in  America.  It  is  full  of  life  and 
activity,  but  too  densely  covered  with  a  pall  of  smoke  to  be  a 
very  agreeable  abode  for  more  than  a  day  or  jtwo  to  the  trav- 
eler who  journeys  either  for  health  or  recreation. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


THE  MORMOKS. 


St.  Louis,  February,  1858. 
The  collision  between  the  government  of  the  United  States 
and  the  singular  theocracy  of  the  Mormons,  which  has  estab- 
lished itself  in  the  Great  Salt  Lake  Valley,  under  the  presi- 
dency of  Brigham  Young,  and  which  took  place  in  tlie  "fall" 
of  last  year,  was  inevitable,  sooner  or  later.  The  United 
States  proclaim  perfect  liberty  of  religion  —  perfect  liberty 
even  of  the  grossest  superstition  and  fanaticism — so  that 


'  vJ 


If  Ml 


148 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


Brigham  Young  and  his  apostles  and  ciders  may,  if  it  so  please 
them,  and  if  they  can  aftbrd  the  extravagance,  indulge  them- 
selves with  a  hundred  wives  apiece,  and  exclaim,  like  their 
kindred  Mohammedans,  that  "  God  is  great,  and  Joe  Smith  is 
his  prophet !"  without  forfeiting  therehy  the  light  of  the  Ter- 
ritory of  Utah  or  Descrct  to  bo  admitted  in  due  time,  with  its 
own  laws,  religion,  and  customs,  among  the  sovereign  repub- 
lics of  the  United  States.     Brigham  Young,  the  choice  of  the 
people,  was  for  many  years,  de  jure  as  well  as  de  facto,  the 
Governor  of  Utah,  and  as  fully  entitled  to  Ijc  so  as  the  re- 
spective Governors  of  New  York,  Massachusetts,  Virginia, 
Pennsylvania,  or  any  other  state,  are  to  administer  the  laws  of 
those  commonwealths.     It  would  have  been  well  if  the  ques- 
tion had  been  left  in  that  state  for  twenty  or  thirty  years — if 
the  Mormons  had  been  allowed,  in  the  wilderness  where  they 
have  fixed  their  abode,  to  govern  themselves  in  thei.  own  way, 
and  to  give  their  knavish  and  disgusting  superstition  rope 
enough  to  hang  itself.    It  was  highly  desirable  for  a  thousand 
reasons  that  no  violence  should  be  done,  or  seem  to  be  done, 
to  that  great  principle  of  religious  freedom  and  equality  which 
the  founders  of  the  Union  established.     Unfortunately,  how- 
ever, the  question  was  hurried  forward  with  undue  and  un- 
wise haste.     From  small  beginnings  the  Mormons  have  grown 
into  a  large  community ;  and  from  equally  small  beginnings 
of  interference  the  government  of  the  United  States  was  drawn 
on,  step  after  step,  to  assume  a  position  with  respect  to  them 
from  which  there  was  no  honorable  escape  on  either  side.    To 
do  the  Mormons  justice — and,  much  as  the  world  must  loathe 
their  filthy  doctrine,  they  are  entitled  to  fair  consideration — 
they  did  their  utmost  to  avoid  collision.     When  their  pre- 
tended prophet  was  cruelly  and  treacherously  murdered  by  a 
gang  of  bloodthirsty  ruffians,  and  elevated  into  the  dignity  of 
martyrdom ;  when  they  were  driven  from  one  settlement  to 
another,  and  finally  expelled  from  Nauvoo,  their  new  Zion — 
they  withdrew  beyond  the  Rocky  Mountains,  that  they  might 
be  out  of  the  way  of  all  neighbors — that  they  might  live  witli 
a  belt  of  wilderness  around  them,  and  wive,  thrive,  work,  and 
worship  after  their  own  fashion.    But  it  was  not  decreed  that 
they  should  remain  in  this  state  of  isolation. 


rawn 
them 

To 
oathc 
tion — 

prc- 
dby  a 
uty  of 
icnt  to 
^ion — 

c  witli 
•k,  and 
}d  that 


THE  MORMONS. 


149 


Dcscrcty  or  Utah,  in  in  the  high  road  from  the  Atlantic  to 
the  Pacific.     The  discovery  of  gold  in  California,  %vhich  was 
partly  due  to  Mormon  agency,  has  made  their  territory  a  sta- 
tion, through  which  the  civilization  and  the  trade  of  the  At- 
lantic sea-board  must  pour  to  the  sea-board  of  the  Pacific,  and 
drawn  them  into  that  community  of  Anglo-Saxon  nations  with 
whom  they  have  so  little  in  common  but  their  industry,  their 
pluck,  and  their  mother  tongue.     The  inevitable  collision  was 
thus  hastened.     The  Mormons  refused  obedience  to  the  laws 
of  the  United  States ;  drove  from  their  territory  the  officers 
of  the  supreme  government  legally  appointed ;  overruled  the 
authority  of  the  President  and  Congress  of  the  United  States 
— by  the  mere  will  of  IJrigham  Young,  a  theocrat  and  a  des- 
pot, as  well  as  the  choice  of  the  people — ^and  rendered  it  im-* 
possible  for  the  government  at  Washington,  without  loss  of 
dignity  and  sacrifice  of  principle,  to  do  other  than  enforce 
obedience  by  the  strong  arm  of  physical  force.     If  left  alone, 
/^    monism,  like  other  mischiefs  and  absurdities,  might  have 
.La  out,  and  given  the  world  no  farther  trouble.     But  it  is 
the  fortune  or  the  fatality  of  religions,  new  or  old,  and  of 
forms  of  faith  of  every  kind,  that  they  thrive  upon  obstruction 
:i      hostility.     Nothing  in  its  previous  history  did  so  much 
for  Mormonism  as  the  murder  of  Joe  Smith. 

The  next  great  aid  and  impetus  which  their  cause  received 
was  the  savage  expulsion  of  the  Mormons  from  Missouri,  and 
their  exodus,  in  the  midst  of  a  severe  winter,  with  their  goods 
and  chattels,  their  plows,  their  oxen  and  their  kine,  their 
wives  and  their  children,  across  the  wilderness  for  upward  of 
two  thousand  miles,  and  through  the  gorges  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  to  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  where  they  succeeded  in 
establishing  themselves,  amid  dangers  and  difficulties  unparal- 
leled in  history.  It  only  needed  a  hostile  collision  with  the 
army  of  the  United  States  to  make  Mormonism  a  still  greater 
fact  than  it  is,  and  to  establish  it,  perhaps,  too  firmly  to  be 
shaken.  The  United  States  government  sent,  late  last  au- 
tumn, a  small  force  of  only  2500  men,  of  whom  only  one  half 
were  really  available,  to  reduce  the  fanatics  to  obedience ;  and 
the  Mormons,  in  a  rude,  wild  country,  defended  by  mountain 


ri 


150 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY    IN  AMERICA. 


1  ii 


passes,  in  which  a  hundred  men  might  destroy  an  invading 
force  of  fifty  times  their  number,  resolved  to  do  battle  against 
their  assailants.  Upon  the  rule  that  all  is  fair  in  war,  the 
Mormons  engaged  the  Indian  tribes  in  their  defense.  Seventy- 
five  wagons,  containing  the  stores  and  provisions  of  the  United 
State;  'a*my,  fell  into  their  hands ;  they  burnt  up  all  the  grass 
and  every  green  thing  for  two  hundred  miles  on  the  route 
which  the  soldiers  had  to  take ;  and,  animated  with  the  fiercest 
spirit  of  resistance,  they  organized  a  force,  independent  of  their 
Indian  auxiliaries,  three  times  as  numerous  as  that  of  their 
invaders.  Every  man  capable  of  bearing  arms  was  enrolled ; 
and  they  had  a  mounted  troop  of  shepherds,  huntsmen,  and 
others,  well  skilled  in  the  use  of  the  rifle,  every  man  of  whom 
knew  all  the  mountain  passes  and. gorges,  of  which  their  ad- 
versaries were  totally  ignorant.  But,  after  a  great  show  of 
resistance  and  still  greater  bluster,  the  Mormons,  finding  the 
ultimate  hopelessness  of  the  struggle,  unexpectedly  mt.de  a 
quasi  submission  at  the  last  moment ;  and  the  United  States' 
government,  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  end  this  impolitic 
struggle,  appointed  another  governor — not  a  Mormon — in  the 
room  of  Brigham  Young.  Thus  did  President  Buchanan  and 
his  cabinet  retire  from  a  false  position. 

To  coerce  the  Mormons  into  submission,  and  to  compel 
them  to  conform  to  the  laws  of  that  great  Union  of  which 
their  territory  forms  a  part,  may  or  may  not  have  been  a  de- 
sirable object  to  attempt ;  but  to  have  made  the  attempt  and 
failed  would  have  been  a  political  and  social  crime  of  the 
highest  magnitude.  Its  results  would  have  fanned  the  flame 
of  Mormon  fanaticism  and  audacity,  and  brought  into  their 
ranks  a  whole  army  of  scamps,  filibusters,  and  soldiers  of  for- 
tune ready  to  fight  for  any  cause  that  promised  pay,  promo- 
tion, and  power,  and  that  added  the  additional  inducement, 
potent  with  such  scoundrels,  of  a  harem  with  as  many  wives 
as  Brigham  Young  or  Heber  Kimbal.  The  United  States, 
having  entered  upon  this  war,  were  bound  to  conquer ;  but  it 
can  scarcely  be  asserted  by  the  warmest  friends  of  the  admin- 
istration that  the  victory  was  a  brilliant  one  for  the  federal 
government.    The  struggle  will  be  renewed  at  a  future  time. 


PROM  ST.  LOUTS  TO  NEW  ORLEANS. 


151 


There  u  no  room  for  sueli  funuticH  in  the  United  Stutos  terri- 
tory, wide  as  it  is,  and  they  must  "  clear  out"  as  civilization 
spreads  westward.  Whether  their  next  home  will  be  in  Mex- 
ico or  in  LJtish  territory  is  impossible  to  predict.  They  are 
ccrtainl)'  not  wanted  on  British  ground ;  and  Mexico  would 
not  be  the  worse  of  their  company,  but  might  probably  be  the 
better  for  the  infusion  of  a  little  more  vigorous  blood,  and  of  a 
new  superstition  not  more  degrading  than  its  own. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

FROM   ST.  LOUIS  TO  NEW   ORUSANS. 

New  Orleans,  Feb.  20,  1858. 
On  leaving  St.  Louis  our  sensations  were  not  of  the  most 
agreeable  kind.  Two  days  picviously  the  steamer  Colonel 
Grossman  had  burst  her  boiler  near  a  place  called  New  Madrid, 
several  hundred  miles  down  the  river,  and  the  papers  were 
filled  with  accounts  of  the  calamity,  and  with  long  lists  of  the 
killed  and  wounded.  As  we  drove  down  to  the  levee  to  se- 
cure our  state-rooms  on  board  of  the  Philadelphia,  the  Irish 
newsboys  thrust  into  our  hands  the  St.  Louis  JRepublican  of  that 
morning,  bawling  out,  "  Horrible  accident !  bursting  of  the 
Colonel  Crossnian — fifty  people  killed !"  This  was  not  pleas- 
ant; but  ail  the  passengers — there  were  sixty  or  seventy  of 
Tas — consoled  themselves  with  the  hope  that  such  a  calamity 
would  endow  with  extra  caution,  for  at  least  a  month  to  come, 
every  captain,  pilot,  engineer,  and  stoker  on  the  Mississippi. 
And  so  we  took  our  voyage,  satisfied  that  our  captain  was 
"  clever"  both  in  the  English  and  the  American  sense  of  the 
word,  and  that  the  clerk,  the  next  in  authority,,  was  equally  so. 
The  crew  and  stokers  were  all  negro  slaves ;  and  this  was  a 
circumstance  to  be  deplored  perhaps,  but  not  to  be  remedied ; 
for  the  recklessness  of  the  negroes — recklessness  caused  not  by 
wickedness,  but  by  want  of  thought,  want  of  responsibility, 
and  want  of  moral  dignity,  consequent  upon  the  state  of  slave- 
ry— is  doubtless  one  cause,  among  many,  of  the  frequency  of 


II 


if 


H 


m 


1 1 


'1  ) 

I 


ri 


'!i  i 


152 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


A4r     ? 


ii  I, 


accidents  in  ull  the  waters  where  they  form  the  crows  of  the 
navigating  vessels. 

Wc  had  on  board  the  Philadelphia  at  starting  from  the  levee 
1000  head  of  chickens,  400  turkeys,  1100  sheep,  180  hogs, 
2000  barrels  of  flour,  1990  sacks  of  com,  400  barrels  of  pork, 
besides  two  or  three  hundred  bales  of  hemp  and  cotton,  aad  & 
load  of  fad.  In  traveling  for  such  long  distances  in  the  United 
Sta*  8  \j'  one  from  England  who  has  ioumeyed  for  even  a 
thou  mnd  or  five  hundred  miles  on  the  Continent  of  Europe  is 
impressed  not  alone  with  the  comfort  and  freedom  of  being 
able  to  go  so  far  without  that  curse  of  our  old  and,  in  some 
respects,  semi-barbarous  civilization — the  passport,  with  its 
fees  and  its  vises,  its  delays  and  its  obstructions,  and  its  often 
insolent  and  always  greedy  gendarmerie  and  officials,  but  with 
the  unvarying  sameness  of  aspect  presented  by  the  landscape, 
the  cities,  and  the  people.  There  is  little  that  is  picturesque 
on  the  great  lines  of  travel,  for  the  Ohio  and  Mississippi  are 
but  monstrous  drains. 

The  Mississippi  flows  through  a  loose,  soft  soil,  and  a  flat 
woody  country,  with  here  and  there  a  bluff  or  headland  of  red- 
dish sandstone.  But  even  these  breaks  to  the  prevailing  uni- 
formity are  unknown  at  the  last  twelve  hundred  miles  of  its 
monotonous  course.  Tiie  cities,  too,  appear  to  be  all  built 
upon  the  same  model.  The  long  rectangular  streets,  the  mon- 
ster quadrangular  hotels,  the  neat  new  chapels  and  flaring 
stores,  seem  repeated  every  where,  with  little  or  no  variations 
of  aggregate  or  detail,  and  the  people  have  the  same  look,  the 
same  swagger,  the  samo  costume,  the  same  speech,  so  that  the 
traveler,  not  being  startled  at  every  hundred  or  two  hundred 
miles  of  his  course,  as  in  Europe,  by  the  apparition  of  a  new 
uniform,  a  new  style  of  building,  by  being  addressed  in  a  new 
language  by  waiters  or  officials,  or  by  seeing  new  and  unfa- 
miliai-  names  over  the  shop  doors  and  at  the  corners  of  the 
streets,  forgets  the  cnormousness  of  the  distances  that  he  is 
passing  through,  or  only  remembers  them  by  their  tedious- 
ness.  But,  though  the  scenery  of  the  Mississippi  has  but  lit- 
tle attraction  after  the  first  few  hours,  the  incidents  that  oc- 
cur by  day  and  night  are  novel  enough  to  interest  and  instruct 


1M 


I  ' 


Ij 


I}l 


I 


FROM  8T.  LOinS  TO  NBW  ORLEANS. 


155 


every  traveler  who  has  his  eyes  open  and  his  wits  about  him. 
And  foremost  among  these  incidents  are  the  lading  or  discharg- 
ing of  cargo,  and  the  taking  in  of  wood.     The  steamers  inva- 
riably burn  wood,  for  coal  is  too  dear  for  this  purpose.     On 
cither  bank  of  the  Mississippi,  as  the  traveler  is  borne  down 
its  steady  current,  he  may  observe  at  every  four  or  five  miles* 
distance  piles  of  wood.     These  are  cut  by  the  negroes  for  their 
masters,  the  owners  of  the  forests  and  the  plantations,  and 
heaped  near  the  shore  for  the  convenience  of  the  steamers. 
When  a  steamer  requires  wood,  it  touches  at  any  one  of  these 
points,  takes  what  it  wants,  and  cither  leaves  the  money  or  a 
note  of  what  has  been  taken,  to  be  settled  hereafler.     Some- 
times the  planter  will  be  glad  to  take  com  or  pork  in  ex- 
change ;  and  if  it  be  inconvenient  to  him  to  leave  a  negro  or 
any  other  person  in  charge  to  take  the  chance  of  a  passing 
boat,  he  leaves  a  notification  of  his  wants  and  wishes  on  the 
pile  of  wood,  and  the  captain,  if  it  bo  possible,  complies  with 
his  wishes.     If  not,  ho  leaves  a  memorandum  stating  the  rea- 
son why,  and  a  note  for  the  money — perhaps  the  money  it- 
self.   When  the  operation  of  taking  in  wood  is  performed  at 
night,  it  is  picturesque  in  the  extreme.     The  steamer  rests 
with  her  prow  upon  the  bank ;  a  plank  is  laid  from  the  lower 
deck  to  the  shore ;  an  iron  stove,  hoisted  up  on  an  iron  pole, 
is  filled  with  fire,  which  bums  merrily,  and  casts  its  red  flick- 
ering glow  upon  the  rapidly  descending  current,  and  a  gang 
of  negroes,  singing  at  their  work,  pass  on  shore  and  return 
laden  with  logs  of  cottonwood  and  cypress,  and  pile  it  upon 
the  deck  ready  for  the  all-devouring  furnace.     In  five  or  six 
hours  it  will  need  a  fresh  supply,  and  the  operation  will  be 
repeated  at  least  thirty  or  forty  times  in  the  1200  miles.    The 
fuel  bill  for  the  voyage  between  St.  Louis  and  New  Orleans 
averages,  down  stream,  about  1000  dollars,  or  £200,  and  for 
the  upward  voyage  about  250  dollars  more. 

All  travelers  have  heard  much  of  the  '*  snags"  and  the 
"  sawyers"  upon  the  Mississippi.  A  snag  is  an  agglomeration 
of  trunks  and  branches  of  trees,  borne  down  by  the  ever-vary- 
ing current  of  the  river,  that  is  continually  encroaching  either 
on  the  left  bank  or  on  the  right,  and  sometimes  on  the  o^te 


} 

I  i 

i*' 
i 


^'4 


166 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IS  AMERICA. 


curve  and  Homctimcs  on  the  other,  und  wuMhin^  away  the  trecfl 
that  grow  too  near  to  the  margin.  A  uuwycr  is  a  single  trunk 
that  lias  been  fixed  diagonally  by  the  action  of  the  stream.  If 
an  ascending  vessel  happens  in  the  dark  to  run  against  one  of 
these  formidable  instruments  of  destruction,  she  may  be  Hpped 
up  in  her  whole  length  before  there  is  time  to  stop  the  engine. 
We  on  our  voyage  experienced  no  difficulties  from  either  of 
these  sources  of  evil.  Every  year  they  are  becoming  of  less 
frequent  occurrence,  the  United  States  government  having  es- 
tablished a  series  of  flat-bottomed  steamers  expressly  to  dredge 
for,  collect,  and  carry  away  these  disjecta  membra.  But  the 
snags  and  sawyers,  though  no  longer  so  formidable  or  so  many 
as  in  the  days  of  yore,  are  still  numerous  enough  to  tax  all  the 
vigilance  of  the  pilots  and  captains  of  the  Mississippi  boats, 
especially  when  ascending  the  stream.  Our  course  was  down- 
ward, and  for  that  reason  the  less  dangerous. 

Another  peculiarity  of  the  Mississippi  is  its  numerous  beds 
and  curves,  to  which  may  be  added  the  bayous,  or  streams, 
running  out  of  instead  of  into  the  main  current,  thus  reversing 
the  process  to  which  we  are  accustomed  in  the  Old  World, 
where  the  small  streams  feed  the  large  ones.  For  many  hund- 
red miles  the  Mississippi  flows  upon  a  ridge  above  the  adjoin- 
ing country,  and,  breaking  loose  now  and  then,  lets  off  a  por- 
tion of  its  superabundant  waters  into  the  lower  region,  form- 
ing a  stream  called  a  bayou,  that  is  largest  near  its  source, 
and  smallest  at  its  termination.  The  bayous  often  end  in 
stagnant  pools,  the  haunt  of  the  alligator,  and  the  hot-beds  of 
fever  and  malaria.  The  bends  of  the  river  may  be  under- 
stood in  their  pattern,  but  not  in  their  magnitude  and  multi- 
tudinousness,  by  any  one  who  has  stood  upon  the  battlements 
of  Stirling  Castle,  and  seen  "the  mazy  Forth  unraveled." 
At  one  place  a  canal  of  less  than  two  miles  has  been  con- 
structed, which  saves  a  navigation  of  upward  of  twenty  miles ; 
and  occasionally,  after  heavy  falls  of  rain,  the  stream  itself, 
making  a  new  channel  across  slight  obstruction,  forsakes  its 
devious  ways,  and  goes  directly  to  its  purpose  miles  adown. 
But  the  Mississippi  is  one  of  the  mo*'*  shifting  of  rivers,  al- 
ways eating  away  its  own  banks,  hooding  the  country  at  one 


/ 


FROM  ST.  LOUIS  TO  NEW  ORLEANS. 


167 


con- 
liles ; 
tself, 
■es  its 
own. 
8,  al- 
one 


fiido,  nod  leaving  it  dry  on  the  othor,  nnd  next  day  taking  a 
fancy  to  return  to  its  old  I)cd,  in  obedience  to  Rome  in^crutu- 
bio  law  whith  in  its  results  looks  more  like  caprice  than  order. 

When  we  left  St.  Louis,  the  Mississippi,  or,  as  tho  people 
call  it  familiarly  and  affectionately,  the  **  Mississip,"  was  cov- 
ered with  flouting  ice.  Two  days  before  we  arrived  at  New 
Orleans  we  ^teamed  into  another  climate — warm,  balmy,  and 
delicious  as  England  is  in  the  first  week  of  June. 

The  following  rhymed  version  of  our  seven  days'  adven- 
tures on  the  bosom  of  tho  "Father  of  Waters"  was  written 
during  the  voyage.  Tho  verses  have  the  merit  of  fideli»-y  to 
the  truth  in  all  their  incidents  and  descriptions  of  scenery. 
It  may  be  said  of  them,  even  by  their  author,  that  they  help- 
ed in  their  composition  to  beguile  the  monotony  of  a  very 
long  voyage  of  1295  miles,  and  that,  if  they  yield  no  amus*-  • 
mcnt  to  the  reader,  they  yielded  some  to  tho  writer : 

"DOWN  THE  'MISSISSIP.' 

I 
"  Twaa  A  wintry  morning,  as  tho  clock  struck  ten, 
That  we  left  St.  Louis,  two  dejected  men  ; 
Gazing  on  the  river,  thick  with  yellow  mud, 
And  dreaming  of  disaster,  fire,  and  fog,  and  flood  ; 
Of  boilers  ever  bursting,  of  snags  that  break  tho  wheel, 
And  sawyers  ripping  steam-boats  through  all  their  length  of  keel : 
Yet,  on  shipboard  stepping,  we  dismissed  our  fears, 
And  beheld  through  sunlight,  in  the  upper  spheres, 
Little  cherubs,  waving  high  their  golden  wings, 
Guarding  us  from  evil  and  its  hidden  springs ; 
So  on  Heaven  reliant,  thinking  of  our  weans, 
Thinking  of  our  true-loves,  we  sailed  for  New  Orleans : 
Southward,  ever  southward,  in  our  gallant  ship, 
Floating^  steaming,  panting,  down  the  Mississip. 

II. 

"  Oh,  the  hapless  river !  in  its  early  run 
Clear  as  molten  crystal,  sparkling  in  the  sun  ; 
Ere  the  fierce  Missouri  rolls  its  troublous  tide 
To  pollute  the  beauty  of  his  injured  bride ; 
Like  a  bad  companion  poisoning  a  life. 
With  a  vile  example  and  incessant  strife  ; 
So  the  Mississippi,  lucent  to  the  brim, 
Wedded  to  Missouri,  takes  her  hue  from  him  ; 
And  is  pure  no  longer,  but  with  sullen  haste 
Journeys  to  the  ocean  a  gladness  gone  to  waste  ; 


t'h 


!:i.i 


I  I 


158 


LIFK  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA, 


K'[  *'■ 


Thui  our  idle  fancies  iihaped  thetnuelrcii  that  day, 
Mid  tlio  liluflfii  and  hcadlandH,  and  the  islcta  gray  : 
Houthward,  ever  Houthward,  in  our  creaking  ship, 
Steamini/  throwjh  the  ict'drifta  down  the  Mia:iissiji. 

III. 

"  In  our  wake  there  followed,  ^-hitc  ns  flakes  of  snow. 
Seven  adventurous  sca^lls,  flouting  to  and  fro. 
Diving  for  the  bounty  of  the  bread  wo  throw, 
Dipping,  curving,  swerving — fiHliing  ns  thoy  flew — 
And  in  deep  mid-current,  throned  upon  a  fsuag. 
Far  awoy — a  rover  from  his  native  crag, 
8at  a  stately  eagle,  Jove's  imperial  bird, 
Heedless  of  our  presence,  though  he  saw  and  hoard  ; 

.    Looking  so  contemptuous,  that  human  nature  sighed 
For  a  loaded  rifle  to  slay  him  for  his  pride  ; 
But  superb,  deflant,  slow'y  at  his  case, 
Spreading  his  wide  pinions,  he  vanished  on  the  breeze  t 
Southward,  flying  southward,  far  beyond  our  nliip, 
Floating^  crcahiwj^  jmnting,  down  the  Mississijt. 

IV. 

**In  a  blaze  of  glory  shone  the  sun  that  day  ; 
In  a  blaze  of  beauty,  fresh  as  flowery  May, 
A  maid  from  Alabama  came  tripping  on  the  dock — 
Bright  as  heaven  above  us — pure  without  a  speck, 
Singing  songs  till  twilight  freely  as  the  lark 
That  fur  inner  gladness  sings,  though  none  may  hark : 
Songs  of  young  affection,  mournful  songs  of  home, 
Songs  of  happy  sadness,  when  the  fancies  roam 
From  th'  oppressive  Real  to  the  fairy  Far 
Shining  through  the  Future,  silvery  as  a  star : 
And  the  sun  departed  in  his  crimson  robe. 
Leaving  Sleep,  his  viceroy,  to  refresh  the  globe. 
Thus  we  traveled  southward  in  our  gallant  ship. 
Floating,  drifting,  dreaming,  down  the  Mississip. 

V. 

"  Brightly  rose  the  morning  o'er  the  straggling  town,      ' 
Where  the  broad  Ohio  pours  its  waters  down 
To  the  Mississippi,  rolling  as  before. 
Seeming  none  the  wider  for  increase  of  store ; 
And  they  said,  '  These  houses  scattered  on  the  strand 
Take  their  name  from  Cairo,  in  the  Eastern  land, 
And  shall  be  a  city  at  some  future  day, 
Mightier  than  Cairo,  dead  and  passed  away.' 
And  we  thought  it  might  be,  as  we  gazed  a  while  ; 
And  we  thought  it  might  not,  ere  we  passed  a  mile  : 
And  our  paddles  paddled  through  the  turbid  stream 
As  we  floated  downward  in  a  golden  dream  ; 


FROM  ST.  LOriS  TO  NEW  Oni.KANS. 


150 


%^ 


Boothward,  ever  louthwarcl,  in  our  panting  ship. 
Idling,  dau'dlinij,  ion/ini/,  down  the  MiaaiMaip. 

VI. 

♦'  Somotimcs  in  Minsouri  wo  delayed  nn  hour, 
Taking  in  n  cnr^^o — butter,  corn,  and  flour ; 
Bomctimcs  in  Kentucky  ship})cd  a  pile  ofln^'n, 
Sometime^  Hhci'p  or  turkeys,  once  a  drove  of  hop."*. 
Kutliltissly  the  ncRrc^B  drove  them  down  the  bunk. 
Stubbornly  the  porkers  eyed  the  narrow  plank. 
Till  at  length,  rebellious,  snuffing  danger  near. 
They  turned  their  long  snouts  landward,  and  grunted  out  their  fear. 
And  the  whitc-tcethod  *  niggers,'  grinning  with  delight, 
llodo  thcni  and  bestrode  them,  and  thargcd  them  in  the  fight ! 
And  then  came  Hhrill  lamenting,  and  ngon;  and  wuil, 
And  pummcling,  and  hoisting,  and  tugging  nt  the  tail, 
Until  the  swine  were  conquered  ;  and  southward  i>assc('  our  sliip, 
I'antini/f  steaming,  snorting,  down  the  Mississip. 

VII. 

"Thus  flew  by  the  slow  hours  till  the  afternoon, 
'Mid  a  wintry  landscape  and  a  sky  like  Juno  ; 
And  the  mighty  river,  brown  with  clay  and  sand. 
Swept,  in  curves  majestic,  through  the  forest  land, 
And  stuck  into  its  lM>som,  heaving  fair  and  largo, 
Many  a  lowly  cypress  that  grew  upon  the  marge — 
Stumps,  and  trunks,  and  branches,  as  maids  might  stick  a  ]iin, 
To  vex  the  daring  fingers  that  seek  to  venture  in. 
O  travelers  I  bold  travelers  !  that  roam  in  wild  unrct, 
Beware  the  pins  and  brooches  that  guard  this  river's  breast ! 
For  danger  ever  follows  the  captain  and  the  ship. 
Who  scorn  the  snaga  and  sawyers  that  gem  the  Mis^tissij*. 

mi. 
"Three  days  on  the  river — nights  and  mornings  three, 
Ero  we  stopped  at  Memphis,  the  port  c '"  Tonncsscc, 
And  wondered  why  they  gave  it  such  iiMro  of  old  renown — 
A  dreary,  dingy,  muddy,  melancholy  town. 
But  rich  in  bales  of  cotton,  o'er  all  the  landing  spread. 
And  bound  for  merry  England,  to  ''um  the  people's  bread  ; 
And  here— oh  I  shamo  to  Freedom,  that  boasts  with-iongue  and 

pen ! — 
We  took  on  board  a  "cargo"  of  miserable  men  ; 
A  freight  of  human  creatures,  bartered,  bought,  and  sold 
Like  hogs,  or  sheep,  or  poultry — the  living  blood  for  gold  ; 
And  then  I  groaned  remorseful,  and  thought,  in  pity  stronfr, 
A  curse  might  fall  upon  us  for  suffering  the  wrong — 
A  curse  upon  the  cargo,  a  curse  upon  the  ship, 
Panting,  moaning,  groaning,  down  the  Mississip,* 

♦  This  poem  has  been  extensively  copied  into  the  American  papers ; 


1    ,'i 


160 


LIBE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


♦'  Here  our  songster  fled  ns,  the  little  gipsy  queen, 
Leaving  us  a  memory  of  gladness  that  had  been, 
And  through  the  dark  night  passing,  dark  without  a  ray, 
Save  the  light  we  carried,  we  held  upon  our  way  ; 
Darkness  on  the  waters— darkness  on  the  sky — 
Bain-floods  beating  o'er  us — wild  winds  howling  high — 
But,  safely  led  and  guided  by  pilots  who  could  tell 
The  pulses  of  the  river,  its  windings  and  its  swell. 
Who  knew  its  closest  secrets  by  dark  as  well  as  light, 
Each  bluff  or  fringing  forest,  each  swamp  or  looming  height- 
Its  gambols  and  caprices,  its  current's  steady  law. 
And  at  the  fourth  day  dawning  we  skirted  Arkansaw  ; 
Southward,  steering  southwai-d,  in  our  trusty  ship. 
Floating,  steaimng,  panting,  down  the  Mississip. 

X. 

"  Weary  were  the  forests,  dark  on  either  side ; 
Weary  were  the  marshes,  stretching  far  and  wide  ; 
Weary  were  the  wood-piles,  strewn  upon  the  bank  ; 
Weary  were  the  cane-groves,  growing  wild  and  dank  ; 
Weary  were  the  tree-stumps,  charred  and  black  with  fire } 
Weary  was  the  wilderness,  without  a  house  or  spire ; 
Weary  were  the  log  huts,  built  upon  the  sand ; 
Weary  were  the  waters,  weary  was  the  land ; 
Weary  was  the  cabin  with  its  gilded  wall, 
Weary  was  the  deck  we  trod — weary — weary  all : 
Nothing  seemed  so  pleasant  to  hope  for  or  to  keep. 
Nothing  in  the  wide  world  so  beautiful  as  sleep, 
As  we  journeyed  southward  in  our  lazy  ship, 
Dawdling,  idling,  hqfing,  down  the  Mississip. 

XI. 

"Ever  in  the  evening,  as  we  hurried  by, 
Shone  the  blaze  of  forests,  red  against  the  sky — 
Forests  burned  for  clearings,  to  spare  the  woodman's  stroke, 
Cottonwood  and  cypress,  and  ash  and  giant  oak — 
And  from  sleep  upspringing,  when  the  morning  came, 
Seemed  the  lengthening  landscape  evermore  the  same. 
Evermore  the  forest  and  the  rolling  flood. 
And  the  sparse  plantations  and  the  fertile  mud ; 
Thus  we  came  to  Princeton,  threading  countless  isles ; 
Thus  we  came  to  Vicksburg,  thrice  three  hundred  miles ; 
Thus  we  came  to  Natchez,  when  the  starlight  shone. 

Glad  to  see  it — glad  to  leave  it — glad  to  hurry  on — 

■• _______^_— . 

but  it  may  be  mentioned  as  a  sign  of  the  sensitiveness  of  public  opinion 
on  the  subject  of  negro  slavery  that  the  eight  lines  referring  to  the  car- 
go of  slaves  were  invariably  omitted  in  all  the  journals  except  those  of 
Mnssnehusctts  and  the  other  New  England  States. 


FROM  ST.  LOUIS  TO  NEW  ORLEANS.  161 

Southward,  ever  southward,  in  our  laden  ship, 

Ftatung^  toiling^  l^avingf  down  the  Missisaip,         •  -*  ^' 

xn. 
"  Whence  the  sound  of  music  ?     Whence  the  merry  laugh  ? 
Surely  boon  companions,  who  jest,  and  sing,  and  quaff  i' 
No !  the  slaves  rejoicing — happier  than  the  free, 
With  guitar  and  banjo,  and  burst  of  revelrj- ! 
Hark  the  volleyed  laughter  1  hark  the  joyous  shout  1 
Hark  the  nigger  chorus  ringing  sharply  out ! 
Merry  is  the  bondsman  ;  gloomy  is  his  lord  ; 
For  merciful  is  Justice,  and  kind  is  Fate's  award. 
And  God,  who  ever  tempers  the  winter  to  the  sliom. 
Dulls  the  edge  of  sorrow  to  these  His  lambs  forlorn. 
And  gives  them  cheerful  natures,  and  thoughts  that  never  soar 
Into  that  dark  to-morrow  which  wiser  men  deplore. 
So  sing,  ye  careless  negroes,  in  our  joyous  ship, 
Floating,  steaming,  dancing,  down  the  Mississip. 

XIII. 

"At  the  sixth  day  dawning  all  around  us  lay 
Fog,  and  mist,  and  vapor,  motionless  and  gray  : 
Dimly  stood  the  cane-swamps,  dimly  rolled  the  stream, 
Bayou-Sara's  house-tops  faded  like  a  dream  ; 
Nothing  seemed  substantial  in  the  dreary  fog — 
Nothing  but  our  vessel  drifting  like  a  log : 
Not  a  breath  of  motion  round  our  pathway  blew — 
Idle  was  our  pilot,  idle  were  our  crew — 
Idle  were  our  paddles,  idle  free  and  slave — 
Every  thing  was  idle  but  the  restless  wave, 
Bearing  down  the  tribute  of  three  thousand  miles 
To  the  Southern  Ocean  and  its  Indian  isles ; 
Thus  all  morn  we  lingered  in  our  lazy  ship, 
Dozing,  dreaming,  nodding,  down  the  Mississip. 

XIV. 

"  But  ere  noon,  uprising,  blew  the  southern  breeze. 
Rolling  off  the  vapor  from  the  cypress-trees, 
Opening  up  the  blue  sky  to  the  south  and  west, 
Driving  off  the  white  clouds  from  the  river's  breast ; 
Breathing  in  our  faces,  balmy,  from  the  land, 
A  roamer  from  the  gardens,  as  all  might  understand  ; 
Happy  as  the  swallows  or  cuckoos  on  the  wing. 
We'd  cheated  Father  "Winter,  and  sailed  intnthe  Spring ; 
And  beheld  it  round  us,  with  all  its  sounds  and  sights. 
Its  odors  and  its  balsams,  its  glories  and  delights — 
The  green  grass,  green  as  England  ;  the  apple-trees  in  bloom  ; 
The  waves  alert  with  music,  and  freighted  with  perfume — 
As  we  journeyed  southward  in  our  gallant  ship, 
Singing  and  rejoicing  down  the  Mississip. 


f 


UN 


162 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


\ , 


XV. 

"  On  the  seventh  doy  morning  we  entered  New  Orleans, 
The  joyous  'Crescent  City' — a  Queen  among  the  Queens — 
And  saw  her  pleasant  harbor  c.live  with  tapering  spars — 
With  '  union-jacks'  from  England,  nnd  flaunting  '  stripes  and  stars,' 
And  all  her  swarming  levee,  for  miles  upon  the  shore, 
Buzzing,  humming,  surging,  with  Trade's  incessant  roar  ; 
With  negroes  hoisting  hogsheads,  and  casks  of  pork  and  oil, 
Or  rolling  bales  of  cotton,  and  singing  at  their  toil ; 
And  downward — widening  downward — the  broad  majestic  river, 
Hasting  not,  nor  lingering,  but  rolling  on  forever ; 
And  here,  from  travel  resting,  in  soft  ambrosial  hours. 
We  plucked  the  growing  orange,  and  gathered  summer  flowers, 
And  thanked  our  trusty  captain,  our  pilot,  and  our  ship, 
For  bearing  us  in  safety  down  the  Mississip,^* 


llH-*.™     Ill' 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"the  crescent  city." 

New  Orleans,  Feb.  25,  1858. 
In  descending  the  great  River  Mississippi  our  anticipations 
of  New  Orleans  were  of  the  most  agreeable  kind.  We  had  no 
misgivings  of  plague  or  yellow  fever,  and  dreaded  far  more 
the  explosion  or  burning  of  the  steam-bout  to  which  we  had 
intrusted  the  safety  of  our  limbs  and  lives  than  any  calamity 
attendant  on  the  proverbial  sickliness  of  the  great  city  of  the 
south.  Nor  is  New  Orleans  more  subject  to  the  great  scourge, 
of  which  the  recollection  is  so  intimately  associated  with  its 
name,  than  Mobile,  Charleston,  Savannah,  and  other  places 
in  the  same  latitudes.  The  yellow  fever,  when  it  appears  in 
the  fullness  of  its  ghastly  majesty,  generally  affects  the  whole 
sea-board,  and  showers  its  unwelcome  favors  upon  the  just 
and  upon  the  unjust,  upon  green  and  breezy  Savannah  as  free- 
ly as  upon  the  closely-packed  lanes  and  alleys  of  the  "  Cres- 
cent City."  But  in  winter,  spring,  and  early  summer.  New 
Orleans  is  as  healthy  as  London.  These  pleasant  anticipations 
were  not  doomed  to  disappointment.  New  Orleans  was  in 
the  full  tide  of  its  most  brilliant  season,  and  every  thing  and 
every  body  seemed  devoted  to  enjoyment ;  and,  certainly,  the 
contrast  with  the  lands  and  the  scenery  which  we  had  left  a 


"THE  CRESCENT  CITY." 


163 


week  l)cfoi-e  was  as  agreeable  as  it  was  remarkable.  On  bid- 
ding farewell  to  St.  Louis  we  left  the  winter  behind  us ;  and 
on  approaching  Baton  Rouge,  the  state  capital  of  Louisiana, 
and  within  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  miles  of  New  Or- 
leans, it  was  a  physical  as  well  as  a  mental  luxury  to  note 
the  diiference  of  climate  with  which  a  few  days'  voyage  had 
made  us  acquainted.  There  were  no  more  floating  ice  fields 
on  the  Mississippi ;  no  more  cold  winds  or  leafless  trees ;  no 
more  stunted  brown  and  withered  grass,  such  as  that  which 
had  wearied  our  eyes  for  many  hundreds  of  miles  previously, 
but,  by  a  transformation  as  complete  and  rapid  as  that  in  a 
fairy  pantomime,  the  land  was  covered  with  all  the  beauty 
and  glory  of  the  early  spring.  The  sky  was  of  bright,  un- 
clouded blue ;  the  grass  beautifully  green ;  the  plum,  peach, 
and  apple  trees  were  in  full  and  luxuriant  bloom  of  white  and 
purple ;  and  the  breeze  that  blew  in  our  faces  came  laden 
with  the  balm  of  roses  and  jessamines.  The  sugar  planta- 
tions on  either  bank  of  the  river,  with  the  white  houses  of 
the  proprietors,  each  in  the  midst  of  gardens,  of  which  the 
orange-tree,  the  evergreen  oak,  the  magnolia,  and  the  cypress 
were  the  most  conspicuous  ornaments,  gleamed  so  cheerily  in 
the  sunshine  that  we  could  not  but  rejoice  that  we  had  turn- 
ed our  backs  on  the  bitter  north,  and  helped  ourselves  to  an 
extra  allowance  of  vernal  enjoyment.  For  a  few  days  it  seem- 
ed like  a  realization  of  the  poetical  wish  of  Logan,  in  his  well- 
known  apostrophe  to  the  cuckoo : 

♦'  Oh,  could  I  fly,  I'd  fly  with  thee ! 
We'd  make  with  social  wing 
Our  annual  visits  o'er  the  globe, 
Companions  of  the  spring." 

Steam  was  the  cuckoo  of  this  occasion — a  cuckoo  whose  mo- 
notonous notes  have  in  this  land  made  the  remotest  wilder- 
nesses to  smile  with  beauty  and  fertility.  The  simile  may  not 
be  a  very  good  one,  but  let  it  pass.  The  effect  of  the  change 
of  climate  upon  the  spirits  of  all  the  passengers  was  decided. 
The  taciturn  became  talkative  ;  the  reserved  became  commu- 
nicative. The  man  of  monosyllables  expanded  into  whole 
sentences ;  and  the  ladies,  like  the  flowers  by  the  river  side, 


!•      ! 


164 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


felt  tlic  blan<l  influence  of  the  skies,  and  bloomed  into  fresher 
loveliness.  The  wearisome  and  apparently  interminable  for- 
ests of  cypress  aud  cottonwood,  through  which  our  vessel  had 
been  steaming  for  five  days  previously,  were  left  far  in  our 
wake  ;  and  the  landscape  ai'ound  us  was  alive,  not  only  with 
the  bustle  of  cc.  mercial  and  agricultural  business,  but  with 
all  the  exhilan»dng  sights  and  sounds  of  that  sweet  season 
when  nature  leops  ^o  the  kisses  of  the  sun.  This  was  on  the 
13th  of  February,  the  day  before  St.  Valentine's.  In  England, 
in  the  ancient  epoch  of  our  traditional  poetry,  era  Chaucer,  the 
"  morning  star  of  song,'^  had  arisen  upon  our  land,  the  anni- 
versary of  St.  Valentine,  when  the  birds  begin  to  choose  their 
mates,  was  considered  to  be  the  first  day  of  spring.  May  not 
the  fact  suggest  a  change  of  the  seasons  in  the  old  land  within 
the  last  five  or  six  hundred  years  ?  And  may  it  not  help  to 
prove  that  the  climate  enjoyed  by  our  forefathers  in  the  twelfth 
century  was  similar  to  that  which  now  blesses  the  people  of 
thu  sunny  South  in  the  nineteenth  ?  But,  leaving  this  point 
to  the  curious  and  to  the  weatherwise,  I  must  own  that,  while 
walking  out  on  St.  Valentine's-day  in  the  beautiful  green  mead- 
ows near  Algiers,  on  the  side  of  the  Mississippi  opposite  to 
New  Orleans,  I  was  ungrateful  enough  to  complain  (to  my- 
self) that  something  was  wanting  to  complete  my  enjoyment. 
The  homesickness  was  upon  me,  and  I  was  dissatisfied  with 
the  green  grass  because  there  were  no  buttercups,  daisies,  cow- 
slips, or  primroses  among  it.  And  here  let  me  state  that  none 
of  these  flowers  are  to  be  found  on  the  Nortli  American  conti- 
nent except  in  conservatories,  where  they  are  not  exactly  the 
same  as  our  beautiful  wild  English  varieties.  But  if  there  be 
no  daisies,  it  must  be  confessed  that  there  are  violets  in  the 
South,  for  I  gathered  bunches  of  them  on  the  14th  of  Febru- 
ary ;  but,  alas  !  they  had  no  scent,  and  did  not  betray  them- 
selves by  their  fragrance  before  the  eye  was  aware  of  their 
proximity,  like  the  sweet  violets  of  Europe.  But  then  it  may 
be  said  for  Nature  in  these  latitudes  that  she  gives  so  much 
odor  to  the  orange  blossoms,  the  roses,  the  bay-spice,  and  the 
jessamines,  as  to  have  none  to  spare  for  sach  humble  flowers 
as  violets.     Let  me  also  confess,  en  passant  (and  still  under  a 


,:W., 


"THE  CRESCENT  CITY." 


165 


qualm  of  tlio  homesickness),  that  I  found  another  deficiency,  I 
will  say  defect,  in  the  landscape,  to  which  all  the  surpassing  love- 
liness of  the  atmosphere  failed  to  reconcile  me,  which  was,  that 
the  air  was  silent,  and  that  no  skylarks,  '<  true  to  the  kindred 
points  of  heaven  and  home,"  sang  in  the  hlue  heavens.  There 
are  no  larks  in  North  America,  nor,  as  far  as  I  have  been  able 
to  discover,  any  other  bird  with  a  song  as  joyously  beautiful 
nnd  bountiful.  America  has  the  bluebird  and  the  mocking- 
bird ;  but  those  who  love  to  hear  the  lays  of  that  speck  of  de- 
licious music,  that  diamond-like  gem  of  melody  which  twinkles 
in  the  "  blue  lift"  and  hails  the  early  mom  at  heaven's  gate, 
may  expect  the  gratification  in  the  Old  World,  but  not  in  the 
New. 

But  this  is  a  digression,  and  we  have  yet  to  reach  New 
Orleans.  For  a  distance  of  several  hundred  miles,  where  the 
river  skir^^  the  shores  of  the  great  cotton-growing  states  of 
Mississippi,  Arkansas,  and  Tennessee,  cotton  plantations,  with 
their  negroes  busy  at  work  to  feed  the  hungry  mills  of  Lanca- 
shire, meet  the  eye  on  both  sides  of  the  stream.  But  on  en- 
tering Louisiana  the  traveler  sees  that  the  cultivation  of  sugar 
replaces  to  a  great  extent  that  of  cotton.  I  regret  that  I  had 
not  time  or  opportunity  to  visit  either  a  sugar  or  cotton  plant- 
ation on  my  way  down  the  river,  that  I  might  have  studied 
for  a  few  days  the  relationship  between  the  master  and  the 
slave,  and  have  tested  by  my  own  experience  the  benevolent 
rrd  patriarchal  character,  rightly  or  wrongfully,  but  univer- 
sally given  to  it  in  the  South.  But  on  th'.s  subject  I  shall 
possibly,  with  more  experience,  have  something  to  say  here- 
after. In  the  meai.  time  I  could  but  notice  how  little  of  this 
rich  country  was  cultivated,  and  how  thin  a  belt  of  land  made 
profitable  by  the  plow  extended  between  the  dark  river  and 
the  darker  forest  which  bounded  the  view  on  every  side.  But 
this  belt  is  gradually  widening.  The  &xe  and  the  torcli  are 
clearing  the  primeval  forest;  and  the  cotton-gi owing  states 
of  IVIiGsissippi  and  Alabama,  and  the  sugar-growing  state  of 
Louisiana,  are  annually  adding  to  the  wealth  of  America  and 
of  Great  Britain  by  increasing  the  area  of  profitable  culture, 
and  developing  the  resources  of  a  soil  that  contains  within  its 


ij 

!i  ,. 


,-'  ■'■ '  t 


.g^  (if^im^^^i 


■  i^^.r, 


*' » I'll, 


160 


I.tFl-i  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


bosom  fertility  enos'gh  to  clothe  and  feed  the  whole  population 
of  Europe  and  America.  The  sugar  plantations  have  seldom 
a  river  breadth  of  more  than  five  acres,  but  they  extend  all 
but  indefinitely  into  the  forest  beyond.  Some  oi  XhvMi  reach 
for  one  mile,  otlui"8  for  three  or  even  ten  uiilt,*  into  vlit;  y\\- 
dcmess  of  cypress  irees  and  dismal  swampt  thai  vjr  hrmdredf' 
of  miles  frii'.  j  the  i^hores  of  the  "  FrUhcr  of  Wafei-.«." 

New  Orleans  stands  on  ihc  left  lumk  of  the  Mississippi, 
about  a  hundred  milos  from  its  mouihs,  on  a  crescent-like 
bend  of  the  river,  whence  ita  r  arae  of  the  "  Crescent  City  " 
By  means  of  the  continual  deposits  of  the  vast  quaalilif ,,  of 
mud  and  sand  which  it  holds  in  solution,  and  brinp^s  down 
from  the  great  wilderness  of  the  Far  "^Vc  t,  the  !MissiLs;ppi  hp.3 
rais  :••'!  its  Ixid  to  a  considerable  height  above  thi^  level  of  the 
surroLsiid in.fi;  country,  and  is  embanked  for  hundreds  of  miles 
by  earth  n  mounds  or  dikes,  of  six  or  eight  feet  in  height,  cull- 
ed levees.  This  name  was  originally  given  by  the  French, 
and  ii  still  retained  by  the  dwellers  on  t!ii^  banks  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi and  Ohio.  A  levee  of  (Lis  kind  protects  New  Orleans. 
As  many  parts  of  the  city  are  ir  s  r  than  the  bed  of  the  river, 
no  portion  of  the  drainage  fii;.  1  its  way  into  what  in  other 
citias  is  the  natural  channel,  but  runs,  from  the  direction  of 
the  stream,  into  the  swamps  of  the  lower  country  toward 
Lake  Pontchartrain.  As  there  is  very  little  fall  in  this  direc- 
tion, New  Orleans,  as  may  be  supposed,  is  ill  drained.  It  is  a 
matter  of  considerable  difficulty  and  great  expense  to  drain  it, 
even  as  inefficiently  as  such  untoward  circumstances  will  al- 
low. "*>Vhat  drainage  there  is  is  upon  the  surface,  and  even  at 
this  early  seas  m  of  the  year  the  smell  affects  painfully  the  ol- 
factory nerves  of  all  who  prefer  the  odors  of  the  rose  to  those 
of  the  cesspool.  The  population  of  the  city  is  about  120,000, 
of  whom  one  half  or  more  are  alleged  to  be  of  French  extrac- 
tion. The  French  call  themselves,  and  are  called,  Creoles — a 
tefm  that  does  not  imply,  as  many  people  suppose,  an  admix- 
ture of  black  blood.  Indeed,  all  persons  oi  V",uropean  descent 
born  in  this  portion  of  America  are  stric'ly,  according  to  the 
French  m^^ining  of  the  word,  Creolts.  New  Orleans  is  less 
like  an  American  city  than  any  other  in  the  United  States, 


^S!r' 


(( 


THE  CRESCENT  CITY. 


» 


167 


and  reminds  the  European  traveler  of  Havre  or  Boulogne«Rur- 
Mer.     From  the  admixture  of  jieople  speaking  the  English 
language  it  is  moHt  like  Boulogne,  but  the  characteristics  of 
the  streets  and  of  the  architecture  are  more  like  those  of 
Havre.     The  two  languages  divide  the  city  between  them. 
On  one  side  of  the  great  bisecting  avenue  of  Canal  Street  the 
shop-signs  are  in  French,  and  every  one  speaks  that  language  ; 
on  the  other  side  the  shops  and  the  language  are  English. 
On  the  French  side  are  the  Opera  House,  the  restaurants,  the 
cafes,  and  the  shops  of  the  modistes.     On  the  English  or 
American  side  are  the  great  hotels,  the  banks,  the  Exchange, 
and  the  centre  of  business.     There  is  one  little  peculiarity  in 
New  Orleans  which  deserves  notice  as  characteristic  of  its 
French  founders.      In  other  American   cities  no  effort  of 
imagination  is  visible  in  the  naming  of  streets.     On  the  con- 
trary, there  is  in  this  respect  an  almost  total  absence  of  in- 
vention.     New  Yo»k,  Philadelphia,  Washington,  Cincinnati, 
and  St.  Louis  seem  to  have  exhausted  at  a  very  early  period 
of  their  histories  the  imagination  or  the  gratitude  of  their 
builders.      Street  nomenclature  has  been  consigned  to  the 
alphabet  at  Washington,  where  they  have  A  Street,  B  Street, 
C  Street,  D  Street,  etc.    At  New  York  the  streets  are  named 
from  First  Street  up  to  One  Hundred  and  Eighty-eighth  or 
even  to  Two  Hundredth  Street.     At  Philadelphia  imagina- 
tion in  this  particular  matter  seems  to  have  reached  its  limit 
when  it  named  some  of  the  principal  thoroughfares  after  the 
most  noted  and  beautiful  trees  that  flourished  on  the  soil — 

"  Walnut,  Chestnut,  Spruce,  and  Pine, 
Hickory,  Sassafras,  Oak,  and  Vine." 

Having  stretched  so  far,  it  could  go  no  farther,  and  took  ref- 
uge, as  New  York  did,  in  simple  arithmetic.  At  Cincinnati, 
where  the  same  system  prevails,  the  street-painters  do  not  even 
take  the  trouble  of  adding  the  vsrord  street,  but  simply  write 
I'^ourth  or  F'i'th,  as  the  case  may  be.  In  that  pleasant  and 
prosperous  place  you  order  an  extortionate  coach-driver  to 
tttke  you,  not  to  Fourth  Street,  but  to  Fourth.  Not  so  in 
New  Orleans.  The  early  French  had  greater  fertility  of  fancy, 
and  named  their  streets  after  the  Muses  and  the  Graces,  the 


it'i 


\k 


168 


LIFE  AND  LIDEBT7  IN  AMERICA. 


Nereids  and  the  Oreads,  the  Dryads  and  the  Hamadryads,  and 
all  the  gods  and  goddesses  of  Olympus.  Having  exhausted 
their  classic  reminiscences,  they  next,  as  a  gallant  people,  be- 
thought themselves  of  the  names  of  their  fair  ladies — dames 
and  demoiselles — and  named  some  of  the  newer  streets  after 
the  Adelcs,  Julies,  Maries,  Alines,  and  Antoinettes,  whom  they 
hold  in  love  or  reverence.  When  these  failed  they  betook 
themselves  to  the  names  of  '.minent  men — in  their  own  and 
in  ancient  times — to  those  of  Lafayette  or  Washington,  or  to 
the  founders  of  New  Orleans,  the  Carondelets  and  the  Poy- 
dras.  It  is,  perhaps,  too  late  for  New  York  and  other  great 
American  cities  to  alter  the  system  they  have  established ;  but 
to  name  a  street  after  a  public  benefactor,  a  statesman,  a  war- 
rior, a  philosopher,  or  a  poet,  or  even  after  the  Muses  and 
the  Graces,  seems  preferable  to  so  tame  and  prosaic  a  method 
of  nomenclature  as  that  afforded  by  the  alphabet  or  the  mul- 
tiplication table.  # 

The  most  prominent  public  building  in  New  Orleans  is  the 
St.  Charles  Hotel,  an  edifice  somewhat  in  the  style  and  ap- 
pearance of  the  Palace  of  the  King  of  the  Belgians  at  Brus- 
sels. During  the  twelve  days  that  our  party  remained  under 
its  hospitable  roof  it  contained  from  seven  hundred  to  seven 
hundred  and  fifty  guests,  and  its  grand  entrance-hall,  where 
the  gentlemen  congregate  from  nine  in  the  morning  till  eleven 
or  twelve  at  night,  to  read  the  newspapers,  to  smoke,  to  chew, 
and,  let  me  ad'},  to  spit,  presented  a  scene  of  bustle  and  ani- 
mation which  can  be  compared  to  nothing  but  the  Bourse  at 
Paris  during  the  full  tide  of  business,  when  the  agioteurs  and 
the  agens  de  change  roar,  and  scream,  and  gesticulate  like  ma- 
niacs. The  Southern  planters,  and  their  wives  and  daughters, 
escaping  from  the  monotony  of  their  cotton  and  sugar  planta- 
tions, come  down  to  New  Orleans  in  the  early  spiing  season, 
and,  as  private  lodgings  are  not  to  be  had,  they  throng  to  the 
St.  Louis  and  the  St.  Charles  Hotels,  but  principally  to  the 
St.  Charles,  where  they  lead  a  life  of  constant  publicity  and 
gayety,  and  endeavor  to  make  themselvev  amends  for  the  se- 
clusion and  ivoariness  of  winter.  As  manv  :,.  n,  hundred  ''■ 
dies  (to  say  nothing  of  the  gentlemen)  sit  dowii  together  to 


f 


ds,  and 
laustcd 
plo,  be- 
-damea 
t8  after 
)m  they 
betook 
wn  and 
n,  or  to 
lie  Toy- 
er  great 
ed ;  but ' 
,  a  war- 
scs  and 
method 
he  mul- 


•I 


!  t 


[IS  is  the 
and  ap- 
nt  TJrus- 
d  under 
to  seven 
1,  where 
U  eleven 
to  chew, 
and  ani- 
ourse  at 
eurs  and 
ike  ma- 
ughters, 
planta- 
season, 
ig  to  the 
y  to  the 
city  and 
I*  the  sc- 
idred  '«• 
•ether  to 


^y 


,^'f, 


iiM: 


\i'  >i 


im\  I 


II 


^^'| 


THE    CRESCENT  CITY. 


»» 


171 


^ 

■  K/j ' 

■ 

11;^  > 

1 

W 

'•'A 


IM 


I 


hrcnkfiiHt — tho  majority  of  thorn  in  full  clrcs«  ns  for  nn  even- 
ing party,  and  nrmycd  in  the  lull  splendor  both  of  thoir  chiirmA 
and  of  their  jewelry.  Dinner  is  but  a  repetition  of  tho  t»anio 
brilliancy,  only  that  the  ladies  arc  still  more  goi-geously  and 
elaborately  dressed,  and  make  a  still  greater  display  of  pearls 
and  diamonds.  Af\cr  dinner  the  <lrawin^-ro<Mn8  otter  n  scene 
to  which  no  city  in  the  world  affords  a  parallel.  It  is  the 
very  court  of  Queen  Mob,  whose  courtiers  arc  some  of  the  fair- 
est, wealthiest,  and  most  Ixiautiful  of  the  daughters  of  tho 
South,  mingling  in  true  Republican  equality  with  the  chanco 
wayfarers,  gentlo  or  simple,  well  dressed  or  ill  dressed,  clean 
or  dirty,  who  can  pay  for  a  nightly  lo<lging  or  a  day's  board 
'  at  this  mighty  caravansary.  To  rule  such  a  hotel  as  this  in 
all  its  departments,  from  the  kitchen  and  the  wine-cellar  to  the 
treasury  and  the  reception-rooms,  with  all  its  multifarious  ar- 
ray of  servants,  black  and  white,  bond  and  free,  male  and  fe- 
male— to  maintain  order  and  regularity,  enforce  obedience,  ex- 
trude or  circumvent  plunderers,  interlopers,  and  cheats,  and, 
above  all,  to  keep  a  strict  watch  and  guard  over  that  terrible 
enemy  who  is  always  to  be  dreaded  in  America — Fire — is  a 
task  demanding  no  ordinary  powers  of  administration  and  gov- 
ornment,  but  it  is  one  that  is  well  performed  by  the  proprie- 
tors, Messrs.  Hall  and  Hildreth,  Their  monster  establishment 
is  a  model  of  its  kind,  and  one  of  the  "sights"  of  America. 

So  much  for  the  in-door  life  of  New  Orleans.  Its  out-door 
life  is  seen  to  greatest  advantage  on  the  levee,  where  steam- 
boats unloading  their  rich  freights  of  cotton,  sugar,  and  mo- 
lasses from  Mississippi,  Arkansas,  and  Tennessee,  and  of  pork, 
flour,  com,  and  whisky  from  the  upper  and  inland  regions  of 
Missouri,  Illinois,  Ohio,  and  Kentucky,  present  a  panorama 
that  may  be  excelled  in  Europe  for  bustle  and  life,  but  not  for 
picturesqueness.  The  river  can  scarcely  be  seen  for  the  crowd 
of  steam-boats  and  of  shipping  that  stretch  along  the  levee  for 
niles ;  f\nd  the  levee  itself  is  covered  with  bales  of  cotton  and 
other  produce,  which  hundreds  of  negroes,  singing  at  their 
work,  with  here  and  there  an  Irishman  among  them,  are  busily 
engaged  in  rolling  from  the  steamers  and  depositing  in  the 
places  set  apart  for  each  consignee.     These  places  are  distin- 


172 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


guUhcd  OUR  from  tho  uthcr  by  tho  little  flags  Muik  upon  them 
— (lugs  of  all  colorn,  and  mixtures  of  colors,  and  patU>mi-» ;  and 
hero  the  goods  remain  in  the  open  air,  unprotected,  until  it 
pleases  tho  consignees  to  remove  them.  New  Orleans  would 
seem,  at  tho  first  glance,  to  overflow  with  wealth  to  such  an 
extent  as  to  have  no  room  for  storage.  Tho  street  pavements 
actually  do  service  for  warehouses,  and  are  cumbered  with 
barrels  of  salt,  corn,  flour,  pork,  and  molasses,  and  bales  of  cot- 
ton, to  such  an  extent  as  to  impedo  the  traflic,  and  justify  the 
belief  that  tho  police  must  bo  either  very  numerous  and  efli- 
cient,  or  tho  population  very  honestly  disposed.  Tho  docks 
of  Liverpool  are  busy  enough,  but  there  's  no  life  or  animation 
at  Liverpool  at  all  equal  to  thoso  which  may  bo  seen  at  tho 
levee  in  the  "  Crescent  City."  The  fiine  open  space,  the  clear 
atmosphere,  the  joyousness  and  alacrity  of  the  negroes,  the 
countless  throngs  of  people,  tho  forests  of  funnels  and  masts, 
the  plethora  of  cotton  and  com,  the  roar  of  arriving  and  de- 
parting steam-boats,  and  the  deeper  and  more  constant  roar 
of  the  multitude,  all  combine  to  impress  the  imagination  with 
visions  of  wealth,  power,  and  dominion,  and  to  make  the  levee 
as  attractive  to  the  philosopher  as  it  must  be  to  the  merchant 
and  man  of  business. 

One  day,  weary  of  the  sights  and  sounds  of  trade,  and 
anxious  for  fresh  air,  I  crossed  to  Algiers  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  Mississippi.  Here,  while  admiring  the  orange  groves, 
but  regretting  that  the  oranges  were  bitter,  and  overhearing 
the  strange  names  given  to  the  negroes  by  one  another,  and 
by  the  Creole  masters  and  mistresses — such  names  as  Hercule. 
Lysandre,  Diane,  Agamemnon,  and  Hector  —  I  was  much 
amused  by  the  fervent  ejaculations  of  a  man  who  had  evident- 
ly been  drinking.  Talking  loudly  to  himself,  but  slowly  and 
deliberately,  he  said,  "  Damn  every  thing  I  damn  every  body ! 
Yes,  but  there's  time  enough  to  damn  every  thing,  and  it's  not 
my  business  to  go  out  of  the  way  to  do  it.  Besides,  I  have  no 
authority  to  damn  any  thing,  and,  for  that  matter,  to  damn 
any  body  but  myself,  which  I  do  most  heartily.  Damn  me  !" 
and  he  passed  on,  reeling. 

On  the  third  day  after  our  arrival,  New  Orleans  was  excited 


^1 


"THE  CRESCENT  CITY." 


173 


{jcyond  tho  limitD  of  \t»  ordinary  propriety  by  tho  revclricA  of 
tlio  **  Mystick  Krcwo  of  Comus" — an  uAHooiation  of  citizt^nn 
wliOAO  names  are  known  only  to  tho  initiated,  who  annually 
cclohrato  tho  festival  of  Mardi  Gras  by  a  procession  through 
tho  city.     Tho  procession  on  this  occasion  represented  Comus 
lending  tho  revels,  followed  by  Momus,  Janus,  Pomona,  Ver- 
minnus,  Flora,  Ceres,  Pan,  liacchus,  Silcnus,  Diana,  and,  in 
fact,  tho  whole  Pantheon  of  tho  Greek  mythology,  male  and 
female,  all  dressed  in  appropriate  costume.     Tho  "Krewo'* 
assembled  at  nine  o'clock  in  Lafayette  Square,  and,  having  ob- 
tained permission  of  tho  mayor  to  perambulate  tho  city  with  * 
torch-lights,  started  in  procession  through  the  principal  streets 
to  tho  Gayety  Theatre,  where  the  performers  in  tho  mosque, 
to  tho  number  of  upward  of  one  hundred,  represented  four 
classical  tableaux  before  a  crowded  audience.    They  protract- 
ed tho  festival  till  midnight ;  but  during  that  night  and  tho 
^receding  day  no  less  than  three  assassinations  by  maskers 
were  perpetrated  in  the  open  street.    Tho  circumstances,  hor- 
rible to  a  stranger,  appeared  to  excite  no  sensation  among  tho 
natives-    But  New  Orleans  is  in  tliis  respect  on  a  par  with 
Southern  Italy.     Human  life  is  a  cheap  commodity,  and  tho 
blow  of  anger  but  too  commonly  precedes  or  is  simultaneous 
with  a  word ;  and  among  the  counterbalancing  disadvantages 
of  a  too  warm  and  too  luxurious  climate,  this  predisposition 
to  the  stiletto  or  tho  bowie-knife  is  not  the  least  disagreeable 
or  the  least  remarkable. 

The  swamps  of  the  great  cotton-growing  states  of  Louisi- 
ana, Mississippi,  and  Alabama  are  a  striking  feature  of  the 
southern  landscape.  The  traveler,  whether  he  proceed  by  the 
steam-boats  on  the  great  rivers,  or  along  the  dreary  lines  of 
railway  that  pierce,  often  in  a  straight  line,  for  hundreds  of 
miles  through  the  jungle  and  the  wilderness,  speedily  becomes 
familiar  with  their  melancholy  beauty,  though  he  seldom  has 
occasion  to  penetrate  far  into  their  dangerous  solitudes.  No 
part  of  the  rich  state  of  Ivouisiana,  and  but  few  portions  of 
the  states  of  Mississippi,  Arkansas,  and  Tennessee,  are  more 
than  two  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 
The  majestic  rivers  which  give  names  to  these  states,  and 


V     .1 


I: 


/■! 

:.  i^mf 

I 

If'. ' 

174 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


many  othera  which  are  tributary  to  these  larger  arteries,  such 
as  the  Ked  River,  the  Tombigbee,  and  the  Ohio,  overflow  their 
banks  every  year,  and,  breaking  over  the  artificial  levees  that 
aro  raised  to  restrain  them  -VNithin  their  natural  channels, 
lodge  their, waters  in  the  low  grounds  and  hollows  of  the  for- 
ests. There  being  no  fall  by  ^  vhich  they  can  return  again  to 
the  parent  or  any  other  stream  or  outlet,  the  waters  simmer 
in  the  hot  sun,  or  fester  in  the  thick,  oppressive  shadow  of  the 
trees,  where  nothing  flourishes  but  the  land-turtle,  the  alliga- 
tor, the  rattlesnake,  and  the  moccasin — the  latter  a  small  but 
veiy  venomous  reptile.  An  area  of  no  less  than  9000  square 
miles  between  the  JVlississippi  and  Red  River  is  periodically 
submerged ;  and  the  Alabama  and  Tombigbee  Rivers,  in  many 
parts  of  their  course,  are  as  treacherous  and  unruly  as  the 
Mississippi  itself,  and  commit  as  mnch  havoc  on  the  low-lying 
districts  within  twenty  or  thirty  x.  lies  of  their  banks.  Be- 
tween the  city  of  New  Orleans  and  the  Lake  Pontchartraiii, 
in  a  carriage-drive  of  six  miles  over  the  celebrated  Shell  Road 
(the  best  road  in  America,  though  not  to  be  compared  with 
Regent  Street,  Oxford  Street,  or  the  New  Road),  the  traveler 
may  see  a  miniature  specimen  of  the  prevalent  scenery  of  the 
American  swamps.  He  may  admire  the  luxuriant  forest- 
growth,  festooned  with  the  graceful  ribbons  of  the  wild  vine, 
the  funereal  streamers  of  the  tillandsia,  or  Spanish  moss, 
drooping  from  the  branches  of  pine,  cottonwood,  cypress,  and 
ever-green  oaks — weird-like  all,  as  witches  weeping  in  the 
moonlight;  and  underneath,  amid  the  long,  thick  grass,  the 
palm  and  palmetto  spreading  their  fanlike  leaves  in  beautiful 
profusion.  At  the  roots  of  the  trees,  many  of  them  charred 
and  blackened  by  fire,  sleeps  the  dull,  calm  water,  sometimes 
in  a  smaller  pool,  dyed  to  a  color  like  that  of  porter  or  coffee 
by  the  decayed  vegetation  of  successive  years,  but  in  the  larger 
pools,  often  four  or  five  feet  deep,  lying  clearer  and  more 
translucent  than  when  it  left  the  turbid  receptacle  of  the  pa- 
rent Mississippi.  But  on  the  banks  of  the  great  river  itself, 
between  St.  Louis  and  Natchez,  may  be  seen  in  more  perfec- 
tion the  apparently  interminable  forests  of  cottonwood  ami 
cypress,  whose  deep  recesses,  far  beyond  the  present  reach  of 


"THE  CRESCENT  CITY." 


175 


cultfvalion,  or  the  probable  capabilUies  of  existing  negro  labor, 
stretch  the  "dismal  swam  pa" — worthy  of  the  nainc — where 
men  soldom  venture,  even  in  pursuit  of  sport,  which  elsewhere 
mjikerf  them  bruve  so  many  dangers.  The  atmosphere  in  the 
summer  months,  when  the  vegetation  is  in  its  greatest  beauty, 
is  too  deadly  even  for  acclimated  white  men  and  for  those  in 
the  South.  None  but  negroes  may  brave  the  miasmata  with 
impunity.  Their  lungs  seem  of  a  texture  coarse  enough  to 
imbibe  the  foul  air  without  damage,  and  their  coarse  skins  re- 
pel the  noxious  vapors  that  are  fatal  to  the  white  race. 

It  is  to  places  like  these,  in  the  innermost  recesses  of  the 
swamps,  that  the  rebellious  negro,  determined  upon  freedom. 
Hies  in  pui"suit  of  the  blessing,  and  where  he  hides  and  skulks, 
armed  to  the  teeth,  until  opportunity  serves  him  to  travel  by 
what  the  Americans  call  the  "  underground  railway"  to  Can- 
ada, Avhere,  and  where  only,  he  can  be  safe  from  the  marshals 
and  constables  of  the  United  States. 

And  what,  it  may  be  asked,  is  the  "underground  railway  *?" 
When  and  by  whom  the  name  was  first  applied  it  is  difficult, 
if  not  impossible,  to  state,  but  it  simply  means  the  system  by 
which  the  friends  of  tJie  negro  and  the  supporters  of  the  abo- 
lition of  slavery  pass  a  runaway  slave  from  city  to  city  through- 
out the  length  and  breadth  of  the  Union,  until — perseverance 
and  good-luck  aiding — he  is  finally  enabled  to  set  his  foot  on 
British  territory,  and  set  at  defiance  the  law  and  the  author- 
ity which  would  again  make  him  captive.  In  most,  if  not  all 
American  cities,  there  is  some  male  or  female  philanthropist, 
some  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  or  some  merely  phil- 
osophic friend  of  man,  who,  looking  upon  slavery  as  a  crime 
and  a  curse,  makes  it  a  point  of  duty  to  assist  the  negi*o  in 
escaping  a  bondage  which  he  believes  to  be  an  individual  no 
less  than  a  national  disgrace.  All  these  persons  are  acquaint- 
ed with,  and  correspond  with  each  other,  though  their  exist- 
ence may  be  unknown  to  the  authorities  aid  principal  persons 
of  the  cities  in  which  they  reside.  By  degrees  they  have  or- 
ganized a  system,  in  conformity  to  wliich  they  shelter  and 
feed  the  runaway,  and  provide  him  with  the  means  of  passing 
from  one  city  to  another,  until  he  is  safely  beyond  the  reach 


*. 


176 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AKEBICA. 


of  all  pursuit  from  the  law  ofllcers  of  the  central  government, 
or  iTom  the  officious  interference  of  local  functionaries  or 
busybodies.  Such  is  the  underground  railway.  Canada  is 
its  usual  terminus  ;  for  there,  and  there  alone,  is  safety.  Un- 
fortunately, however,  for  the  negroes,  they  do  not  find  always 
either  a  welcome  or  the  means  of  subsistence  in  their  new 
home.  Canada,  besides,  is  somewhat  too  frosty  for  the  negro 
blood  ;  and  the  fugitives  not  unfrequently  leave  it  in  despair, 
to  return  to  captivity  and  punishment  in  the  more  genial 
South,  where,  whatever  may  be  their  moral  state,  their  phys- 
ical wants  are  better  supplied,  and  with  less  cost  and  exertion 
to  themselves  than  in  the  more  wholesome  and  more  invigor- 
ating North. 

But  it  is  not  every  negro,  who,  in  the  heat  of  passion  for 
real  or  imr.ginary  wrong  inflicted  upon  him  by  master  or  mis- 
tress, escapes  from  thraldom,  that  hopes,  or  even  attempts,  to 
rea'^h  Canada.  The  way  is  too  long ;  the  dangers  are  too 
many;  and,  moreover,  it  is  not  one  i' ^^: .  't>  n  thousand  who 
knows  where  Canada  is,  and  who,  even  when  inspired  by  the 
love  of  freedom,  would  attempt  such  a  journey.  The  nearest 
refuge  of  the  negro  of  Louisiana,  Mississippi,  and  Alabama  is 
the  Swamp,  and  thither  the  runaways  betake  themselves  on 
the  rare  occasions  when  they  quarrel  with  their  masters,  or 
appeal  to  them  in  vain  from  the  tyranny  or  maltreatment  of 
their  overseers.  The  overseers,  it  should  be  stated,  are  seldom 
Southern  men,  but  mostly  "  Yankees"  from  the  New  England 
States,  or  indubitable  Scotchmen,  gaining  their  first  footing  in 
the  world  by  a  mode  of  Hie  to  which  their  poverty  rather 
than  their  Calvinism  or  their  education  reconciles  them.  Once 
in  the  Swamp  and  well  armed,  the  fugitive,  if  not  pursued  too 
rapidly  by  his  master  or  the  overseer  with  the  blood-hounds 
on  his  track — by  no  means  an  uncommon  occurrence — suc- 
ceeds, sooner  or  later,  in  joining  a  band  of  unfortunates  like 
himself,  and  in  penetrating  into  the  jungle  deeply  enough  to 
elude  or  defy  pursuit.  Bands  of  forty  or  fifty  negvors,  and 
sometimes  in  larger  numbers,  have  been  known  to  hai  nt  Uie 
remote  swamps  of  Louisiana  and  Mississippi,  and  to  n  ;ke  their 
retreats  inviolate,  partly  by  the  aid  of  the  pestilential  climate, 
and  partly  by  the  terror  inspired  by  their  ferocity  and  des- 


"the  crescent  city." 


177 


pcralion.  They  have  even  been  known  to  clear  portions  of 
the  wilderness,  and  plant  it  with  maize  or  Indian  corn  for 
t  heii*  subsistence,  and  to  levy,  like  the  "  merry  men"  of  Kobin 
Hood  or  Kob  Roy,  a  very  considerable  black  mail  and  tribute 
upon  the  pastures  of  the  planters  within  two  or  thrco  days* 
reach  of  their  fastnesses.  When  powder  and  shot  fail  them, 
tliey  have  recourse  to  the  more  primitive  implement — the  bow, 
and  thus  provide  themselves  with  subsistence  from  the  spoils 
of  the  forest.  At  night  they  light  large  fires  with  the  sui)er- 
ubundant  timber  of  their  hiding-places,  not  dreading,  so  far 
from  the  white  men,  that  their  pursuers  will  dare  to  break  in 
upon  them  in  such  dangerous  places,  or  trusting,  if  they  do, 
that  their  superior  knowledge  of  the  ground  wi'l  enable  them, 
if  not  to  capture,  at  least  to  elude  whatever  f»  irce,  public  or 
private,  may  be  sent  against  them. 

The  day  will  come,  if  not  within  the  lifetime  of  this  gener- 
ation, yet  in  a  short  period  compared  with  the  history  of  civ- 
ilization, when  all  these  swamps  will  be  drained,  and  when  all 
this  jungle  will  be  cut  down  to  make  room  for  the  cultivation 
of  cotton  and  sugar.  But  at  present  the  cultivated  land  of 
the  Southern  States  is  but  a  margin  and  border  on  the  great 
rivers.  Beyond  these  narrow  strips  lies  on  either  side  the 
great  interior  country,  equally  rich  nnd  fruitful.  But  the 
white  population  in  these  regiony,  unUi  that  in  the  north  and 
west  of  the  Union,  and  unlike  that  in  Canada,  grows  by  its 
own  natural  grt>wth.  It  has  no  aid  from  immigration.  The 
white  race  increases  but  slowl'".  The  black  races  increase 
rapidly — so  rapidly  that,  in  default  of  that  immigration  from 
the  Old  World,  and  from  the  already  over-populated  states  of 
New  England,  which  is  such  a  constant  source  of  wealth, 
power,  and  dominion  to  Ohio,  Indiana,  Blinois,  Iowa,  Wiscon- 
sin, and  Michigan,  and  which  will  be  the  same  to  Kansas, 
Nebroska,  and  scores  of  other  states  and  territories  not  yet 
settled,  the  negroes  will  ere  long  outnumber  the  whites.  What 
may  result  when  this  takes  place,  and  when  the  fact  is  known  to 
the  negro  population,  it  is  not  for  any  one  now  living  to  predict : 

"But  forward  though  we  canna  look, 
We  guess  and  fenr." 

H2 


178 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  Uf  AMERICA. 


llE'iilir 


CHAPTER  XXL 

FROM  LOUISIANA  TO   ALABAMA. 

Montgomery,  Alabama,  March  2. 
Farewell  to  the  pleasant  and  sunny  city  of  New  Orleans ! 
Farewell  to  its  warm-hearted  people  of  Creoles,  both*French 
and  Anglo-Saxon !  Farewell  to  the  St.  Charles  Hotel,  that 
perfect  epitome  of  Southern  life  when  it  escapes  from  its  en- 
forced solitudes  in  the  plantations  of  Louisiana,  and  mixes  in 
the  gayety  of  this  "  Petit  Paris"  of  America !  Farewell  to 
the  busy,  picturesque,  swarming  levee,  with  its  negroes  and 
its  Irish-nen,  its  cotton,  its  sugar,  its  pork,  its  corn,  its  whisky, 
and  its  huge  white  steam-boats,  with  their  tall  black  funnels, 
two  to  each !  Farewell  to  its  fruit-shops,  luscious  and  burst- 
ing over  with  oranges  and  bananas,  freshly  gathered  from  the 
tree !  Farewell  to  the  bowers  of  roses  and  jessamines  on  the 
banks  of  the  Mississippi !  And  farewell  to  that  great  Eivei 
Mississippi  itself,  fit  for  every  thing  except  to  drink  and  to 
wash  in,  winding,  and  twisting,  and  pouring  to  the  sea  its 
majestic  tide  for  upward  of  two  thousand  miles,  receiving  into 
its  bosom,  from  tributaries  scarcely  inferior  to  itself,  the  drain- 
age of  an  area  sufficient  to  feed  and  lodge  one  half  of  the  hu- 
man race !  And  farewell,  too,  to  the  sweet  South,  where  by 
a  little  manoeuvre  and  change  of  plan  I  had  contrived  to  evade 
the  frost  and  snow,  and  to  make  Spring  follow  immediately 
upon  Autumn !  I  was  now  bound  for  Mobile,  in  Alabama, 
and  turned  my  face  northward,  traveling  with  the  Spring. 
Hitherto  New  Orleans  had  been  to  my  imagination  a  weird 
city,  a  city  of  the  plague,  a  city  that  London  life-assurance 
offices  would  not  allow  their  clients  to  visit  unless  upon  pay- 
ment of  a  premium  for  the  extra  risk ;  but  for  the  future  it 
was  to  be  associated  in  my  mind  with  all  pleasant  fancies  and 
ideas — of  beautiful  women,  beautiful  flowers,  beautiful  skies, 
anr"  balmy  breezes. 


FROM  LOUISIANA  TO  ALABAMA. 


179 


From  the  St.  Charles  Hotel  to  the  Lake  Pontchortrain  rail- 
way station  is  a  distance  of  less  than  a  mile.     The  hack  faro 
demanded  of  each  passenger  on  this  occjusion  was  one  dollar. 
London  cab-drivers,  who  are  not  allowed  by  the  law  or  the 
police  to  extort  as  much  as  they  please  from  the  fear,  the  ig- 
norance, or  the  indolence  of  the  public,  might  advantjigcously 
expatriate  themselves  to  Louisiana,  or,  indeed,  to  any  other 
state  in  the  wide  dominion  of  "Uncle  Sam."     Were  the 
American  hack-drivers  all  white  men,  it  might  not  unreason- 
ably be  supposed  tliat  they  had  immigrated  from  the  European 
side  of  the  Atlantic,  to  revenge  themselves  for  deprivation  of 
the  liberty  of  cheating  in  the  Old  World  by  the  exercise  of  an 
unbounded  license  of  extortion  in  the  New.     But  this  theory 
does  not  hold  in  the  South,  where  at  least  one  half  of  the 
hack-drivers  are  negroes.     Yet  five  hundred  London  cabmen, 
the  very  worst  and  most  insolent  that  London  could  spare, 
might  effect  a  social  revolution  in  this  department  by  coming 
over  to  America.     If  they  demanded  no  more  than  four  times 
the  legal  London  fares  they  would  get  abundance  of  custom, 
for,  even  at  these  rates,  they  would  be  able  to  do  the  work  at 
half  the  price  of  the  American  Jehus,  native  or  imported. 
From  the  railway  depot  to  Lake  Pontchartrain  is  six  miles, 
and  the  fare  was  a  quarter  of  a  dollar.     From  Lake  Pont- 
chartrain, by  the  fine  mail  steamer  the  Cuba,  the  distance  is 
165  miles,  and  the  fare  on  this  occasion  was  precisely  tho 
same  as  the  hackney-coach  fare,  one  dollar.     The  accommo- 
dation afforded  included  supper,  a  night's  lodging,  and  break- 
fast in  the  morning.     But  let  no  iuture  traveler  imagine  that 
such  a  rate  is  a  permanent  institution.     There  was  on  that 
day  an  opposition  boat  on  the  line ;  and,  to  vanquish  and 
overwhelm  the  opposition,  it  Avas  contemplated,  if  the  ruinous 
rate  of  one  dollar  would  not  effect  the  purpose,  to  reduce  it 
still  farther  to  half  a  dollar.     The  consequences  were,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  that  the  boat  was  inconveniently  over- 
crowded, and  that  there  was  a  ferocious  scramble  at  breakfast- 
time  for  seats  at  the  table.     It  must  be  admitted,  however, 
that  the  cuisine  was  as  liberal  as  if  the  full  price  had  been  de- 
manded.    For  my  part,  it  was  not  without  a  compunctious 


m 


180 


LIFE  AND  LIBEBTY  IN  AMERICA. 


4  u. 


''■■m 


throb  and  qualm  of  con.seiencc  that  I  was  lending  myself  to  a 
robbery,  that  I  condescended  to  eat  either  supper  or  break- 
fast. 

We  left  New  Orleans  at  four  in  the  afternoon,  and  steam- 
ed all  night  through  the  two  sea  lakes  of  Pontchartrain  and 
Borgne,  and  along  the  inner  shore  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico — 
inner,  because  protected  from  the  outer  gulf  by  a  breastwork 
of  islands.  At  nine  the  next  morning  the  Cuba  was  safe  in 
the  Mobile  Ri^er,  discharging  her  freight  and  passengers  at 
the  levee.  The  population  of  Mobile  is  about  25,000,  free 
and  slave,  who  all,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  live  and  thrive 
by  the  cotton  trade.  Mobile  and  Liverpool  are,  in  different 
ways,  as  closely  connected  by  interest  and  business  as  Liver- 
pool and  Manchester,  and  their  transactions  nre  annually  on 
the  increase.  The  wharves  and  levee,  like  those  of  New  Or- 
leans, are  covered  with  cotton  bales.  The  gutters,  when  it 
rains  (and  the  rains  of  Mobile  are  floods),  bear  down  waifs 
and  strays  of  cotton  to  the  river,  and  the  river  is  studded  and 
flecked  •with  cotton-drift  floating  about  on  its  surface  like  so 
many  nautili.  The  thoughts  of  the  merchants  of  Mobile  are 
of  cotton.  They  talk  of  cotton  by  day,  and  dream  of  it  by 
night.  When  news  arrive  from  Europe,  they  turn  instinct- 
ively to  the  Liverpool  cotton  report.  A  rise  or  fall  of  a 
farthing  per  lb.,  or  even  of  one  eighth  of  a  farthing,  may 
make  the  difference  between  ease  and  embarrassment — be- 
tween riches  and  poverty — ^between  a  good  speculation  and  a 
bad  one. 

"Cotton  is  in  their  steps,  cotton  is  in  their  ears ; 
In  all  their  actions,  enterprise  and  cotton." 

Next  to  the  State  of  Mississippi,  Alabama  is  the  greatest 
cotton  state  of  the  Union,  ai  /i  produces  from  500,000  to 
700,000  bales  per  annum,  at  an  average  value  of  from  forty 
to  fifty  dollars  (£8  to  £10)  per  bale. 

Mobile  was  founded  by  the  French  in  1700,  when  they 
were  the  possessors  of  Louisiana ;  but  the  name,  though  it  re- 
sembles a  French  word  and  suggests  a  French  origin,  is  said 
by  the  natives  to  be  Indian.  It  was  ceded  to  England  in 
17C3,  and,  seventeen  years  afterward,  was  made  over  to  Spain. 


FROIC  LOUISIANA  TO  ALABAMA. 


181 


It  bears  but  few  traces  cither  of  its  French  or  its  Spanish 
founders,  and  some  of  its  most  enterprising  citizens  are  En- 
glish and  Scotch,  attracted  to  it  by  its  business  connections 
with  Liverpool  and  Glasgow.  As  a  city  Mobile  offers  few 
attractions  to  the  traveler.  It  has  no  public  buildings  of  any 
importance,  and  only  one  street  (Government  Street)  whicli 
has  any  pretensions  to  beauty,  and  those  are  derivable  more 
from  its  width,  and  the  luxuriant  tropical  beauty  of  the  trees 
which  shade  it  on  either  sido;  than  from  its  architecture. 
Should  any  of  the  surplus  population  of  London  cabmen,  al- 
ready alluded  to,  bethink  themselves  of  coming  to  the  United 
States,  they  will  do  well  to  consider  the  advantages  which  Mo- 
bile offers  to  them.  My  traveling  companion,  for  going  to  and 
coming  from  an  evening  party  at  a  gentleman's  house  within 
a  distance  of  a  mile  and  a  half  from  our  hotel,  had  to  pay 
one  driver  the  sum  of  eight  dollars  (£1  12s.) ;  and  for  escort- 
ing two  ladies  to  the  theatre  "  on  a  raw  and  rainy  night,"  a 
distance  of  less  tlian  half  a  mile,  he  had  to  pay  six  dollars 
(£1  4s.)  But  th..>se  who  do  not  keep  carriages  of  their  own 
in  Mobile  seldom  or  never  ride.  If  it  be  fine,  they  walk ;  if 
it  be  wet,  they  stay  at  home ;  so  that,  after  all,  the  hackney- 
coach  business  may  not  be  so  prosperous  as  might  be  sup- 
posed from  such  an  unconscionable  tariff. 

The  great  charm,  beauty,  and  attraction  of  Mobile  is  its 
famous  Magnolia  Grove.  The  drive  for  about  three  miles  is 
over  an  excellent  plank  road,  through  the  bowery  avenues  of 
which  are  to  be  attained  at  every  turn  most  picturesque 
glimpses  over  the  Bay  of  Mobile,  and  far  beyond  it  on  the 
verge  of  the  horizon,  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  the  mysteri- 
ous springs  and  sources  of  that  great  Gulf  Stream  which 
works  its  tepid  way  across  the  Atlantic  to  make  green  the 
fields  of  Ireland  and  England,  and  to  soften  the  climate  of 
the  Hebridean  Isles  of  Skye  and  Lewis  and  the  fiords  of  Nor- 
way. On  entering  the  grove,  the  magnificent  magnolias,  tall 
and  umbrageous  as  the  chestnut-trees  of  Bushy  Park,  are 
seen  growing  to  the  very  edge  of  the  sea,  interspersed  with 
equally  magnificent  pines  and  evergreen  oaks.  The  combina- 
tion of  these  stately  trees  presents  the  idea  of  perpetual  sum- 


f^'iff*'!' 


182 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


km 


mer.  j^The  magnolias  were  not  in  bloom  so  early  (the  25th 
of  February),  but  the  wood  violets  were  out  in  rich  though 
inodor  us  luxuriance;  the  jessamines  were  unfolding  their 
yellow  blossoms,  redolent  of  perfume ;  and  the  bay-spice  dis- 
played on  every  side  its  gorgeous  crimson  flowers  and  glossy 
aromatic  leaves.  Amid  all  these  and  a  variety  of  other  trees, 
the  wild  vine,  that  had  not  yet  put  out  its  tender  shoots, 
wreathed  and  twined  itself,  suggesting  the  fuller  beauty  that 
would  burst  upon  tliC  land  when  the  mocking-bird  would  trill 
its  delicious  notes,  the  magnolia  woo  the  "amorous  air"  with 
its  profuse  white  pyramids  of  flowers  till  the  breeze  became 
faint  with  excess  of  odor,  and  the  vine  itself,  with  its  full 
drapery  of  verdure  upon  it,  should  festoon  together  all  the 
trees  of  this  exuberant  wild  wood. 

"Walking  out  by  myself,  and  meriting  neither  then,  nor  at 
any  other  time,  the  anathema  of  Cowley,  who  says, 

"  Unhappy  man,  and  much  accursed  is  he 
Who  loves  not  his  own  company," 

a  beautiful  little  spring  by  the  >A'ayside  in  the  Magnolia  Grove 
suggested  to  me,  sitting  on  a  fallen  tree,  and  basking  in  the 
sunshine,  the  following  lines : 

THE  WAYSIDE  SPRING  IN  ALABAMA. 

"  Bonnie  wayside  burnie, 

Tinkling  in  th.,  well, 
Softly  as  the  music 

Of  a  fairy  bell ; 
To  what  shall  I  compare  thee, 
For  the  love  I  bear  thee, 

On  this  sunny  day, 
Bonnie  little  burnie, 

Gushing  by  the  way  ? 

"  Thou'rt  like  to  fifty  fair  things, 
Thou'rt  like  to  fifty  rate  things, 
Spring  of  gla^lness  flowing 

Grass  and  ferns  among, 
Singing  all  the  noontjme 

Thine  incessant  sorg; 
Like  a  pleasant  reason. 
Like  a  word  in  season., 
Like  a  friendly  greeting, 
Like  a  happy  meeting, 


FROV  T^tnSIANA  TO  ALABAILL 


188 


Like  tba  Toico  of  comfort 
In  tho  hour  of  pain,  ,4.^ 

Or  iwcct  sleep  lon»;  vanished,  .    .    , 

Coming  bacic  ugain  : 

"  Like  tho  heart's  romances, 
Liko  a  poet's  fancies, 
Like  a  lover's  visions 

Of  his  bliss  to  be  ; 
Liko  a  little  maiden 

Crowned  with  summers  three, 
RoTPpirK  iti  tho  sunshine 

Beautiful  to  see  ; 
Like  my  true  love's  accents 

When  alone  we  stray, 
Iliippy  with  each  other, 

Throtigh  tho  meads  of  May, 
Or  sit  down  together, 
in  tho  wintry  weather, 

By  the  cheery  fire. 
Gathering  in  that  circle 

All  this  world's  desire, 
HojM),  and  love,  and  friendship. 

And  music  of  tho  lyre. 

**Bonnii  littlo  burnie, 

Winding  through  the  grass, 
Time  shall  never  waste  thee, 

Or  drain  thy  sparkling  glass ; 
And  were  I  not  to  taste  thee, 

And  blcfi «  thee  as  I  pass, 
'Twould  be  .  scorn  of  beauty, 
'T would  hi   ■X  want  of  duty, 
'Twould  be  neglect  of  Pleasure — 
So  come,  thou  little  treasure ! 

I'll  kiss  thee  while  I  may, 
And  while  I  sip  thy  coolness. 

On  this  sunny  day, 
I'll  bless  tlij  gracious  Giver, 
Thou  little  baby  river, 

Gusliing  by  the  way." 

We  wcro  detained  at  Mobih  no  longer  than  three  days,  and 
then,  once  more  taking  passage  upon  a  steam-boat,  we  steam- 
ed up,  and  not  down,  a  great  American  river.  The  Alabama 
is  not  so  great  as  the  Mississippi  or  the  Ohio,  but  is  still  a 
great  and  a  noble  stream,  Tt  is  formed  by  the  junction  of  the 
Coosa  and  the  Tallapoo      uud  is  navigable  by  large  steam- 


&  \i 


!r«*?^i 


184 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


boats  from  Mobilo  to  Wctumpka,  n  distance  of  about  slv. 
hundred  milt  About  forty  mllos  above  Mobile  it  is  joined 
by  a  river  wi  .  the  somcwhttt  cacophonous  r  n>e  of  the  Tom- 
bigl)ee,  and  from  the  point  of  junction  down.va*  vi  is  soractimes 
called  the  Mobile  Kiver.  The  river  runs  for  two  or  three 
hundred  miles  right  through  the  middle  of  the  State  of  Ala- 
bama, of  which  it  is  the  broad,  the  silent,  and  the  beautiful 
liighway,  and  then  slopes  to  the  east  toward  Georgia.  But 
this  reminds  me  that  I  am  speaking,  not  of  nature,  but  of  the 
map,  and  committing  an  error  similar  to  that  of  a  newly-ap- 
pointed postmaster  of  Mobile,  who  wrote  to  a  clerk  in  his  de- 
partment at  the  farther  end  of  the  State  of  Alabama  asking 
him  how  far  the  Tombigbee  ran  up.  The  reply  was  that  the 
Tombigbee  did  not  run  up,  but  down :  a  truth  and  a  witticism 
which  cost  the  sharp  clerk  his  situation  by  the  fiat  of  the  of- 
fended functionary,  who,  if  he  had  sense  to  see  the  joke,  had 
not  magnanimity  enough  to  pardon  it. 

From  Mobile  to  Montgomery,  by  the  windings  of  the 
stream,  tracing  it  upward,  is  r,  distance  of  nearly  five  hundred 
miles,  anil  ^h".  voyage  usually  occupies  about  forty-eight  hours. 
Betweois  dmsie  two  points  the  only  towns  of  importance  arc 
Selmn  aud  Cahawba,  towns  which  in  England  would  be  call- 
ed village.^  but  which  in  America  are  called  cities.  To  steam 
up  this  lonely  and  lovely  river,  fringed  to  the  water's  brink 
with  apparently  interminable  wildernesses  and  swamps  of  cane 
and  cypress — the  cypresses  heavy  and  gloomy  with  the  ban- 
ner-like beards  of  the  tillandsia — was  like  steaming  into  the 
aboriginal  forest  for  the  first  time.  So  still  and  dream-like 
was  the  landscape,  so  liright  a  moon  shone  on  the  faiiy  soli- 
tude of  wood  and  flood,  that  it  seemed  as  if  we  had  passed 
the  uttermost  confines  of  civilization,  and  were  tempting  the 
unknown  waters  of  an  unknown  land,  where  the  savage  still 
prowled,  where  the  war-cry  still  resounded,  and  where  the  up- 
lifted tomahawk  might  still  glitter  in  the  moonlight  over  the 
scslp  of  the  too  adventurous  white  man  rushing  recklessly 
into  danger.  For  forty  miles  at  a  stretch  we  traveled  onward 
—-ever  onward — without  seeing  any  trace  of  a  human  habita- 
tion, though  occasionally  we  stopped  at  a  lonely  corner  where 


FROM  LOUISIANA  TO  ALABAMA. 


185 


81^ 


negrooH,  bearing  torclios,  suddenly  appeared,  to  receive  a  l»r- 
i-el  of  <•  rn,  or  pork,  or  other  ooinniotlity  with  which  we  were 
fixM<»htcd.  There  were  cotton  phmtationH  within  ea^y  dis- 
tances, (hough  not  always  visible  from  the  river.  In  the 
downward  voyage  of  the  steamers  the  owners  of  these  planta- 
tions load  them  with  cotton  for  Mobile,  but  in  the  upward 
voyage  to  Montgomery  the  froi  ht  is  usually  of  such  articles 
as  the  planters  require  for  t*  on; -^! Ives  and  their  slaves.  Ala- 
bama finds  cotton  product!  profitable  than  any  other. 
It  grows  but  little  corn,  r:  Ic  pork,  and  cames  on 
no  manufactures.  There  i  '  quencc,  a  continual  ex- 
change of  cotton  for  every  otiier  cuiumodity  and  thing  which 
the  free  man's  luxuries  and  his  slaves'  necessities  require. 

Alal>ama  is  not  yet  totally  free  of  the  Indian  trilx's,  and 
portions  of  them  come  annually  down  to  Mobile  to  sell  their 
fancy  bead-work,  and  the  little  ornaments  of  bark  which  the 
women  make  in  the  winter.  The  women,  young  and  old,  are 
often  to  be  seen  in  Mobile  with  bundles  of  fire-wood  on  their 
backs,  which  they  sell  in  the  streets,  crying  with  a  melancholy 
intonation,  "Chumpa!  chumpa!"  the  only  word  resembling 
English  which  they  speak,  and  somewhat  more  musical  than 
"chumps,"  which  it  signifies.  The  Alabama  River  was  the 
scene  of  many  romantic  and  many  horrible  incidents  of  the 
early  warfare  between  the  white  and  red  races,  and  many 
stories  are  told  of  the  encounters  of  the  hardy  pioneers  of  civ- 
ilization with  the  equally  hardy  but  more  luckless  aborigines 
who  resisted  their  invasion,  and  of  which  the  Alabama,  its 
swamps  and  bluffs,  was  the  scene  even  so  lately  as  the  year 
1830.  Among  the  Indian  heroes,  one,  "  General"  Mackin- 
tosh, the  son  of  a  Scotchman  by  an  Indian  mother;  stands 
conspicuous  for  his  chivalry  and  bravery,  and  for  the  influence 
which  he  exercised  over  all  the  Indian  tribes  of  Alabama. 
The  river  is  almost  as  intimately  associated  with  his  name  as 
Loch  Lomond  is  with  that  of  Rob  Roy,  or  the  caves  of  the 
Island  of  Skye  with  the  memory  of  Prince  Charlie. 

Montgomery  is  the  capital  of  the  State  of  Alabama,  and 
carries  on  a  considerable  business  in  the  forwarding  of  cotton 
and  other  produce  to  Mobile.     Its  population  is  under  10,000. 


1 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Sciences 

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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  MS80 

(716)  872-4503 


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-^X^^ 


186 


LIFE  AND  LIBEBTT  Df  AXEBICA. 


It  oflTcrs  nothing  to  detain  the  traveler,  and  has  nothing  re- 
markable about  it  except  the  badness  of  its  principal  hotel. 
Among  the  numerous  eccentricities  of  tliis  establishment  may 
be  mentioned  the  fact  that  it  contains  no  bells  in  its  rooms. 
By  this  economy  the  traveler  is  compelled,  if  he  want  any 
thing,  to  go  to  the  top  of  the  stairs  and  use  his  lungs,  or,  if 
that  bo  disagreeable  or  unavailing,  to  help  himself,  which  is, 
perhaps,  his  most  advisable  mode  of  getting  out  of  the  diffi- 
culty. Another  peculiarity  of  this  remarkable  hostelry  is  (or 
was)  that  nothing  is  (or  was)  to  be  had  on  a  Sunday  evening 
after  eix  o'clock.  Having  dined  by  compulsion  of  the  custom 
of  tho  place  at  one  o'clock,  I  sought  out  a  negro  waiter  about 
nine  o'clock,  and  asked  for  some  refreshment.  There  was 
nothing  to  be  had — no  tea,  no  milk,  no  meat,  not  even  a  crust 
of  bread.  "  Is  the  bar  open  V*  1  inquired,  with  a  fiiint  hope 
that  that  department  might  prove  more  hospitable,  and  afford 
a  hungry  traveler  a  "  cracker"  (the  American  name  for  a  bis- 
cuit, and  for  a  Southern  rustic)  and  a  glass  of  beer  or  wine. 
The  hope  was  vain  ;  the  bar-keeper  had  shut  up  at  six  o'clock. 
It  was  a  case  of  starvation  in  a  land  of  plenty ;  and,  to  make 
the  matter  more  provoking,  it  was  starvation  charged  in  the 
bill  at  the  rate  of  two  dollars  and  a  half  per  diem.  I  made  a 
friend  of  the  negro,  however,  and  he  borrowed  a  crust  of  bread 
for  me  out  of  doors  somewhere,  and  managed  to  procure  me  a 
lump  or  two  of  sugar ;  a  worthy  Scotchman  at  Mobile  had, 
when  I  left  that  city,  filled  me  a  pocket-flask  with  genuine 
Islay  whisky  from  the  "  Old  Country ;"  and,  with  these  abund- 
ant resources,  and  a  tea-kettle,  I  was  enabled  to  be  independ- 
ent of  the  landlord  of  the  bell-less,  comfortless,  foodless  hotel 
of  Montgomery,  Alabama.  -  ..  ^  >:  ..v 


r  i: 


...A...  ..^-,x;:..I* 


*>w.  - 


>; 


X*?- 


SOUTH  OABOLIKA. 


187 


CHAPTEU  XXII. 


80UTU   CAROLINA. 


Charleston,  South  Carolina,  March  5,  1858. 
Two  days  after  our  pleasant  voyage  up  the  Alabama  River 
the  weather  suddenly  changed.    A ''  norther"  (a  wind  as  much 
dreaded  in  the  sunny  South  of  this  continent  as  is  the  kindred 
'<  bora"  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  sloping  hills  of  the  Adriatic 
from  Trieste  to  Zara)  swept  over  the  states  of  Alabama  and 
Greorgia,  and  in  less  than  two  hours  the  thermometer  fell  forty 
d^ees.     In  the  morning  it  was  a  luxury  to  breathe  the  balmy 
airs  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  redolent  of  fresh  flowers  and  all 
the  wealth  of  early  spring ;  in  the  afternoon  the  weather  was 
raw  and  bleak,  and  suggested  Siberia  or  Greenland.    The  un- 
happy wayfarer,  unaccustomed  to  the  clime,  was  fain  to  betake 
himself  to  liis  thickest  robes,  or  to  sit  in  stifling  proximity  to 
that  greatest  of  all  abominations,  an  American  stove,  glowing 
at  a  red  heat  with  anthracite  coal.    Nor  was  it  strangers  alone 
who  suffered.    The  natives  are  no  more  inured  to  these  abrupt 
changes  of  temperature  than  travelers  arc.    The  men  think  it 
unsafe  to  leave  off  their  overcoats  in  February  days  that  seem 
to  an  Englishman  as  hot  as  the  days  of  mid-June ;  and  the 
ladies — more  susceptible  of  cold  than  any  ladies  I  ever  met 
with  in  the  Old  World— will  not  venture  their  fair  noses  or 
their  fair  finger-tips  beyond  the  warm  privacy  of  their  boudoirs 
or  bed-rooms  when  there  blows  a  breeze  from  the  east  or  north. 
While  steaming  up  the  Alabama,  and  for  twenty  miles  run- 
ning a  race  with  another  boat,  which,  greatly  to  my  satisfac- 
tion, parted  company  with  us  at  the  junction  with  the  Tombig- 
bee,  I  could  not  help  reflecting  on  the  numerous  flres.  Wrecks, 
and  explosions  for  which  the  rivers  of  the  South  are  notorious. 
I  inquired  whether  it  was  the  recklessness  of  the  captains,  or 
whether  it  was  that  of  the  passengers,  who  but  too  often  in- 
cite captains  to  race  with  rival  hoaiSj  pour  passer  k  temps  and 


m 


I,  '1  i> 


-«'W  i'Sfx* 


188 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


i 


to  bcgaile  the  monotony  of  tl  3  voyage,  that  produced  such  ac- 
cidents. Then  I  debated  whether  there  could  be  any  stimu- 
lating influence  in  a  Southern  atmosphere  which  acted  upon 
the  human  brain  and  organization  so  as  to  make  men  nioro 
thoughtless  and  impulsive  than  they  are  in  the  steadier  and 
soberer  North  ;  or  whether  it  was  a  want  of  care  in  the  man- 
ufacture or  the  management  of  the  machinery;  or  whether  all 
these  causes  might  not  combine  more  or  less  to  render  lifo 
more  insecure  in  the  Southern  railways  and  rivers  than  it  is 
in  other  parts  of  the  world  I  Altogether  I  was  so  gloomily 
impressed  with  the  idea  of  impending  calamity,  that  I  looked 
carefully  and  anxiously  around  to  weigh  the  chances  of  C8ca[K) 
if  our  boat  should  be  the  victim  either  of  misfortune  or  mis- 
management. The  prospect  was  not  particularly  ploniMint. 
The  river  had  overflowed  its  banks,  and  the  trees  on  each  sklo, 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  pierce  through  the  intricacies  of  the 
primeval  forest,  stood  three  or  four  feet  deep  in  the  stream. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  a  waste  of  water  and  a  tan- 
gled forest-growth — the  haunt  of  alligators  and  rattlesnakes. 
There  was  this  comfort,  however — it  was  too  early  in  the  ycor 
either  for  alligators  or  rattlesnakes,  both  of  which  hibernate 
in  these  regions  until  the  beginning  of  May.  I  ultimately  camo 
to  the  conclusion  that,  if  l.he  J^'  Charles  (such  was  the  name 
of  our  boat)  took  fire  or  burst  boiler,  the  most  reasonable 
and  promising  chance  of  safety  would  be  to  seize  a  life-belt,  to 
plunge  into  the  water  and  make  for  the  jungle,  where,  perched 
on  the  branch  of  a  tree,  I  might  await  with  all  the  fortitude 
at  my  command  the  mode  and  the  hour  of  deliverance.  On 
retiring  to  rest  for  the  night,  having  made  sure  of  a  life-bolt 
(and  one  is  placed  in  every  berth  to  be  ready  for  the  worst),  I 
speedily  forgot  my  forebodings  in  the  blessed  sleep  "  which  slid 
into  my  sou!."  Next  afternoon,  safely  landed  at  the  pretty  but 
inhospitable  city  of  Montgomery  (only  inhospitable  as  far  as 
its  principal  inn  is  concerned),  I  exchanged  the  perils  of  the 
river  for  the  perils  of  the  rail.  Let  me  not  be  considered  an 
exaggerator  or  an  alarmist.  All  traveling  is  in  the  South 
more  perilous  than  it  is  any  where  else.  The  "  reason  why" 
is  difficult  to  tell  on  any  other  supposition  than  that  the  cli- 


SOUTH  CABOLINA. 


189 


mate  in  too  relaxing  to  the  body  and  too  stimulating  to  the 
brain  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  races,  and  that  they  become  reckless 
and  careless  in  consequence.  But  I  must  leave  this  point  for 
the  consideration  of  physiologists,  assuring  them  that,  like  the 
shake  of  Lord  Burleigh's  head  in  the  play,  "  there  may  be 
something  in  it,"  and  proceed  with  my  story. 

After  leaving  Montgomery,  and  traveling  all  night  through 
the  long,  weary,  and  apparently  illimitable  pine  forests  of 
Georgia,  in  the  upper  branches  of  which  the  night  wind  made 
a  perpetual  moaning,  our  train  arrived  at  nine  in  the  morning 
in  the  beautiful  little  city  of  Augusta.  Here  an  hour  was  al- 
lowed us  for  breakfast,  and  hither  the  electric  telegraph  con- 
veyed to  us  from  the  Tombigbee  and  Alabama  Bivers,  the  an- 
nouncement of  one  of  the  most  heart-rending  steam-boat  calam- 
ities that  had  ever  occurred,  even  in  Southern  waters.  The 
newspapers  put  into  our  hands  at  breakfast  narrated  the  cir- 
cumstances in  the  curtest,  dryest,  and  baldest  manner,  but  I 
learned  the  details  afterward  from  a  variety  of  sources.  These 
details,  doubtless,  made  a  stronger  impression  on  my  mind  than 
they  might  otherwise  have  done,  from  the  strange  presenti- 
meni  of  evil  which  I  had  experienced  on  the  river,  and  from 
the  similarity  of  some  of  the  circumstances  that  actually  oc- 
curred to  those  which  my  fancy  had  conjured  up  on  the  lovely 
moonlight  evening  when  our  vessel  had  pierced  the  silent  wil- 
derness of  "  the  beautiful  river." 

Before  leaving  the  "  Battle  House"  at  Mobile  I  noticed  a 
large  steamer  at  the  levee  called  the  Elka  Battle^  and  won- 
dered whether  she  were  so  named  after  one  of  the  Battle 
family,  from  whom  the  Battle  House,  or  Hotel,  had  taken  its 
appellation.  This  elegant  steamer,  a  floating  palace,  as  most 
of  these  river  boats  are,  was  suddenly  discovered  to  be  on  fire 
in  her  voyage  from  Mobile  up  the  Tombigbee.  She  had  a 
large  freight  of  dry  goods,  provisions,  and  groceries,  which  she 
was  taking  up  to  the  plantations  in  part  payment  of  the  cot- 
ton bales  which  she  had  brought  down,  and  upward  of  fifty 
passengers,  of  whom  about  twenty  were  women  and  children. 

How  the  fire  originated  is  not  known ;  but,  as  already  nar- 
rated, the  night  was  intensely  cold,  and  water  spilled  upon  the 


^■%: 


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\  \J 


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i  ■■  \- 


iA     i 


190 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


deck  froze  almost  immediately.  Large  icicles  hung  on  the  in- 
side, and  oozed  through  the  wood-work  of  the  paddle-boxes ; 
and  even  the  negro  stokers,  who  fed  the  furnaces  with  wood, 
were  cold  at  their  work.  The  machinery,  furnaces,  and  boil- 
ers of  these  boats  are  on  the  lower  deck,  open  to  all  the  winds 
of  heaven,  and  are  not  inclosed  like  the  machinery  of  English 
boats,  so  that,  even  in  feeding  the  furnaces  with  logs  of  greasy 
pine  and  looking  at  a  roaring  fire>  the  workmen  may  feel  cold. 
Whether  the  negroes  piled  on  the  wood  too  fiercely  and  over- 
heated the  funnel,  or  whether  sparks  from  the  chimney  fell  on 
some  of  the  more  combustible  freight  upon  the  lower  deck,  is 
not,  and  possibly  never  will  be  known  ;  but  at  one  hour  after 
midnight  the  fearful  cry  of  "  Fire !"  was  raised  in  the  Eliza 
Battle,  The  flames  made  rapid  progress,  and  all  efforts  to  ex- 
tinguish or  subdue  them  were  unavailing.  Amid  the  shrieks 
and  frantic  prayers  of  agonized  women — some  moved  out  of 
their  beds  at  a  moment's  notice,  and  rushing  on  to  the  deck  in 
their  night-clothes,  some  of  them  grasping  their  terrified  little 
children  by  the  hand,  or  clasping  them  to  their  bosoms,  ready 
to  plunge  into  the  river  as  the  less  fearful  of  the  two  forms 
of  death  which  menaced  them — the  Voice  of  the  captain  was 
heard  giving  orders,  and  urging  all  the  passengers  to  keep  to 
the  ship.  In  one  minute  he  promised  to  run  her  ashore 
among  the  trees.  Husbands  consoled  their  wives  with  the 
hope  of  safety ;  and  all  the  passengers,  male  or  female,  tacitly 
or  openly  agreed  that  the  captain  was  right,  and  that  their 
only  chance  of  safety  lay  in  obedience  to  his  orders. 

The  captain  was  at  his  post.  The  wheel  obeyed  his  hand, 
and  in  less  than  a  minute  the  ship  was  aground  on  the  river- 
bank,  her  upper  deck  high  amid  the  branches  of  the  oaks, 
Cottonwood,  and  cypress.  How  it  was  managed  my  inform- 
ants could  not  tell,  but  in  a  few  minutes  between  forty  and 
fifty  human  creatures — white  and  black,  free  and  slave,  male 
and  female,  young  and  old — were  perched  upon  the  strongest 
boughs  to  the  leeward  of  the  flames,  a  motley  and  a  miserable 
company.  Soon  after,  the  burning  vessel  drifted  down  the 
stream  with  the  bodies  of  many  of  the  passengers  and  of  the 
negro  crew ;  how  many,  none  at  that  time  could  tell,  nor  have 
I  ever  been  able  to  ascertain. 


m 


SOUTH  CAROLINA. 


191 


e  in- 
)xes; 

boil- 
vinds 
igUsh 
;rea8y 
:  cold, 
over- 
fell  on 
eck,  is 
r  after 
J  Eliza 
to  ex- 
ahrieka 
out  of 
ieck  in 
jd  little 
3,  ready 
0  forms 
lin  was 
keep  to 

ashore 
ith  the 
I,  tacitly 

,t  their 

^s  hand, 
le  river- 
Le  oaks, 
inform- 
^rty  and 
re,  male 
trongest 
Miserable 
j)wn  the 
Id  of  the 
lor  have 


Then  a  new  horror  became  visible  and  palpable,  and  grew 
more  horrible  every  hour.     In  this  desolate  situation,  the  ten- 
der women  and  children,  without  clothes  to  shelter  them,  were 
exposed  to  the  pitiless  breath  of  a  "  norther,"  the  coldest  wind 
that  blows.     Some  of  them  were  so  weak  that  strong-handed 
and  kind-hearted  men  stripped  themselves  of  their  under  gar- 
ments to  cover  their  frailer  fellow-sufferers,  or  tied  women  and 
children  —  by   stockings,  cravats,  pocket-handkerchiefs,  and 
other  contrivances — to  the  branches,  lest  their  liml)s,  benumb- 
ed by  the  cold,  should  be  unable  to  perform  their  offices,  and 
they  should  drop,  like  lumps  of  inanimate  matter,  from  the 
trees  into  the  dismal  swamp  below.     Hour  after  hour,  until 
daylight,  they  remained  in  this  helpless  condition,  anxiously 
looking  for  assistance.     They  listened  to  every  sound  on  the 
water  with  the  faint  hope  that  it  might  prove  to  proceed  from 
the  paddles  of  a  steam-boat  coming  to  their  deliverance,  or 
the  plashing  oar  of  a  row-boat  from  some  neighboring  planta- 
tion, whose  owner  had  heard  of  their  calamity  and  was  hast- 
ening to  the  rescue.     Even  the  cry  of  a  water-bird  gave  them 
courage,  lest  the  bird  perchance  might  have  been  startled  by 
an  approaching  boat ;  but  no  boat  appeared.     There  was  no 
help  within  call.     The  cold  stars  shone  alone  upon  their  mis- 
ery.    The  night  wind  rustled  and  shook  the  dead  leaves  of 
last  year  upon  the  trees,  and  the  ripple  of  the  river,  flowing  as 
calmly  to  the  sea  as  if  human  hearts  were  not  breaking,  and 
precious  human  lives  ebbing  away  upon  its  dreary  banks, 
were  the  only  sounds  audible  except  their  own  prayers  and 
lamentations,  and  the  wailing  cry  of  a  young  child  dying  in 
its  mother's  arms.     After  a  couple  of  hours,  one  little  baby, 
frozen  to  death,  dropped  from  the  hands  of  its  young  mother, 
too  benumbed  to  hold  it,  and,  fulling  into  the  swamp  below, 
was  lost  from  sight.    After  another  short  interval,  the  mother 
also  fell  from  the  tree  into  the  swamp  alongside  of  her  child. 
A  husband,  who  had  tied  himself  to  a  tree  and  held  his  wife 
and  child  close  to  his  bosom,  discovered  that  both  wife  and 
child  were  dead  with  cold,  and  kept  kissing  their  lifeless  forms 
for  hours,  until  he,  too,  felt  his  hands  powerless  to  hold  them, 
and  they  dropped  from  his  nerveless  grasp  into  the  same  cold 


!■ 


192 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


receptacle.  And  when  morning  at  last  dawned  upon  their 
sufferings,  it  was  found  by  the  sad  survivors,  on  counting  their 
numbers,  that  twenty-eight  were  missing,  and  had  only  es- 
caped the  fearful  but  quick  death  of  fire  to  perish  hy  the  still 
more  fearful,  because  more  lingering,  death  of  cold.  Surely 
in  all  the  annals  of  shipwreck  there  has  seldom  occurred  a 
more  affecting  incident  than  this  I 

With  this  story  in  full  possession  of  all  my  sympathies,  I 
saw  but  little  of  the  landscape  between  Augusta  and  Charles- 
ton— nothing  but  a  wilderness  of  pine-trees — amid  which, 
every  time  the  engine  stopped  to  take  in  water,  I  could  hear 
the  low  wind  moaning  and  sighing.  Pine-trees — nothing  but 
pine-trees — such  is  the  landscape  of  Georgia  and  the  Caro- 
linas. 

: ^ !■  • 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

SOUTU  CAKOLINA. 

Charleston,  March,  1858. 
There  is  a  class  of  very  small  critics  in  America  who  are 
continually  on  the  look-out  for  the  en'ors,  great  or  small,  that 
may  be  made  by  English  travelers  in  their  description  of 
American  scenery,  manners,  or  institutions.  There  is  another 
class  of  persons  who  make  it  their  pleasure  to  mystify,  bam- 
boozle, and  hoax  strangers,  and  who  palm  off  upon  them,  with 
grave  faces,  lies  of  every  magnitude,  great  and  petty,  mis- 
chievous and  harmless.  There  is  another  class,  composed  to 
some  extent  of  persons  belonging  to  tlie  snarlers  and  mauvais 
farceurs  already  mentioned,  but  including  many  honest  and 
estimable  people,  who  think  that  no  person  from  the  Old 
World  can  understand  the  New,  and  that  America  is,  and 
must  be,  a  mystery  to  all  but  Americans.  Some  of  my  let- 
ters published  in  England  from  time  to  time  have  more  or 
less  excited  the  attention  of  these  persons.  The  first — in  spy- 
ing out  and  commenting  upon  small  mistakes,  in  which  the 
obvious  errors  of  the  printer  were  set  down  to  the  writer — 
attempted  to  prove  that  the  leaven  of  one  unimportant  mis- 


y 


SOUTH  CAROLINA. 


198 


heir 
;heir 
r  ea- 
Btill 
iirely 
■ed  a 

lies,  I 

arles- 

trhich, 

I  hear 

igbut 

Caro- 

\'  ■ 


1858. 
vho  are 
ai,  that 
tion  of 
another 
y,  bam- 
m,  with 
ty,  mis- 
tosed  to 
tnauvais 
iest  and 
Ithe  Old 
is,  and 
my  let- 
lore  or 
in  spy- 
ich  the 
riter— 
tnt  mis- 


statement leavened  the  whole  lump.  The  second  tried  their 
best  and  worst,  but  were  guarded  against,  and,  to  use  their 
own  jaigon,  they  did  not  **  sell  the  Britisher."  For  the  bone- 
fit  of  the  third  and  of  the  first  class  of  objectors,  and  to  show 
them  what  a  difficult  animal  to  catch  is  a  fact,  and  what  a 
slippery  tail  it  has,  even  when  you  think  you  have  got  safe 
hold  of  it,  a  little  story  relative  to  Boston,  in  Massachusetts, 
may  not  be  inappropriate  or  useless,  inasmuch,  as  it  may  con- 
vince some  of  them  that  the  most  conscientious  and  painstak- 
ing of  travelers  may  involuntarily  fall  into  mistakes,  and  that, 
in  some  instances  at  least,  these  mistakes  may  be  traced  to  tho 
incapacity  or  carelessness  of  those  who  answer  questions,  and 
not  to  the  incapacity  or  carelessness  of  those  who  put  them. 
Being  in  the  office  of  a  gentleman  who  had  resided  thirty  years 
in  the  city  of  Bdston,  he  informed  me  that  in  the  street  next 
to  his  own  Benjamin  Franklin  was  bom. 

"Does  the  house  exist t" 

"  No,  it  was  pulled  down  some  years  ago,  and  a  large  store 
or  pile  of  buildings  was  erected  on  the  site.'* 

"  Is  there  no  inscription  to  state  that  here  was  bom  Ben- 
jamin Franklin  V* 

"  None  whatever." 

*<  I  am  surprised  at  that.  The  birthplace  of  a  man  of  whom 
Boston  and  all  America  is  so  justly  proud— one  of  the  great 
fathers  of  American  liberty — of  a  mrsri  who,  next  to  Washing- 
ton, is  the  American  best  known  thi^i'^hout  the  world,  ought 
to  have  been  designated  by  some  inscription  or  memorial." 

''Well,  I  agree  with  you  that  there  ought  to  have  been 
something  of  the  kind,  but  there  is  not." 

Ten  minutes  afterward  I  passed  through  the  street  of 
Franklin's  birthplace,  looked  from  the  opposite  side  of  the 
way  to  the  large  building  erected  on  the  site  of  the  humble 
cottage  where  the  great  man  first  saw  the  light,  and  there,  on 
the  top  of  the  building,  in  large  letters,  "  that  those  who  run 
might  read,"  was  the  inscription  which  the  old  inhabitant  ig- 
nored, or  was  unaware  of,  stating  the  fact  that  in  that  place 
was  born  Benjamin  Franklin.  A  traveler  might  well  have 
been  excused  for  taking  the  not  very  important  fact,  or  no 

I 


^ttiai.. 


194 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


fact,  on  Buch  respectable  authority  as  that  from  whom  I  re- 
ceived it,  but  yet  the  traveler  would  have  been  wrong,  and 
might  have  been  yelped  at  for  his  inaccuracy  by  all  the  angry 
curs  of  half  a  dozen  little  I'odlington?. 

But  this  has  nothing  to  do  with  Charleston  in  South  Caro- 
lina except  as  far  as  it  may  servo  to  bespeak  the  charitable 
indulgence  both  of  those  who  do  and  of  those  who  do  not 
know  how  difficult  it  is  to  catch  fast  hold  of  a  fact,  large  or 
small,  and  what  amount  of  the  errors  of  a  traveler  may  be 
fairly  attributed  to  those  with  tvhom  the  traveler  may  be 
brought  into  contact,  and  who  lead  him  astray  without  in- 
tending to  do  so. 

Charleston,  the  greatest  city  of  South  Carolina,  but  not  its 
capital,  is  pleasantly  situated  between  the  Bivers  Ashley  and 
Cooper,  at  their  junction  with  the  sea.  These  names  were 
given  to  the  two  streams  by  an  early  English  governor  of 
South  Carolina,  who  sought  in  this  manner  to  perpetuate  his 
own  patronymics  in  the  New  World ;  but  there  is  a  disposi- 
tion at  present  to  revert  to  the  original  Indian  appellations, 
and  to  call  the  Cooper  the  Ettiwan,  and  the  Ashley  the  Chi- 
cora.  The  population  of  Charleston  is  variously  estimated 
from  50,000  to  60,000,  of  whom  at  least  20,000  are  slaves. 
The  city,  founded  in  1670,  was  laid  out  on  a  plan  sent  from 
England,  and  does  not  present  the  monotonous  rectangularity 
of  streets  which  characterizes  American  cities  of  a  later 
growth.  The  original  Constitution  of  South  Carolina  was 
framed  by  no  less  a  person  than  the  philosopher  John  Locke ; 
and  the  principal  church  of  Charleston,  that  of  St.  Michael,  is 
affirmed  by  the  citizens  and  by  tradition  to  have  been  built 
from  the  designs  of  an  architect  no  less  renowned  than  Sir 
Christopher  Wren,  King  Street  and  Queen  Street  were 
named  after  Charles  II.  and  his  consort,  names  which  have 
been  retained  by  the  Charlestonians  in  spite  of  attempts  made 
to  change  them  during  periods  of  war  with  England.  Thus 
Charleston  has  reminiscences  of  the  "  Old  Country,"  and  is 
proud  of  them.  The  society  of  South  Carolina  and  of  Charles- 
ton is  polished  and  aristocratic,  and  the  principal  citizens  love 
to  trace  their  descent  from  Englishmen,  or  from  old  Huguenot 


"■^.■.i;-*a&.. 


<m 


eOVl'H  CAROLINA. 


196 


[  rc- 

,  and 
ingry 

Caro- 
itablo 
LO  not 
.rge  or 
nay  be 
aay  be 
3Ut  in- 

not  its 
ley  and 
es  were 
rnor  of 
uate  his 
disposi- 
jUations, 
the  Chi- 
pstimated 
•e  slaves, 
jent  from 
ngularity 
'  a  later 
)Una  was 
|n  Locke ; 
ichael,  is 
jen  built 
than  Sir 
.eet  were 
|hich  have 
ipts  made 
id.    Thus 
r "  and  is 
jfCharles- 
tizens  love 
Huguenot 


fiuniliet  driven  to  America  by  the  Revocation  of  the  Edict  of 
Nantes.  Charleston  covers  a  large  space  of  ground.  To  look 
at  it  from  the  top  of  the  tower  of  St.  Michael,  or  to  steam  into 
it  either  from  the  ocean  or  from  the  arms  of  the  sea,  which 
percolate  through  the  Sea  Islands  extending  along  the  coast 
from  Savannah,  the  traveler  might  imagine  it  to  contain  a  pop- 
ulation of  at  Ica'^t  a  quarter  of  a  million.  The  great  attrac- 
tion of  Charleston  is  the  Battery,  at  the  extreme  point  of  land 
where  the  Ashley  and  the  Cooper  (or  the  Ettiwan  and  the 
Chicora)  mingle  their  waters.  Upon  the  Battery,  which  is 
laid  out  in  walks  and  drives,  are  situated  some  of  the  finest 
mansions  of  the  city ;  and  here,  in  all  seasons,  the  inhabitants 
congregate  in  the  afternoon  and  evening  to  walk  or  ride,  and 
inhale  the  fresh  breezes  of  the  Atlantic.  It  is  their  Hyde 
Park,  their  Prater,  and  their  Champs  Elyse'es,  and  they  are 
justly  proud  of  it. 

South  Carolina  is  called  the  "  Palmetto  State,"  from  the 
abundance  of  palmettos  that  flourish  in  the  Sea  Islands  along 
the  coast — the  Sea  Islands  that  produce  the  cotton  so  much 
in  request  in  England  for  the  manufacture  of  the  finer  descrip- 
tions of  muslins  and  cambrics.  In  East  Bay  Street,  nearly 
opposite  the  office  of  the  Charleston  Courier,  stands,  carefully 
guarded  by  a  fence,  a  magnificent  palmetto  in  full  luxuriance 
of  growth,  and  in  the  gardens  of  the  citizens  the  same  tree 
flourishes  in  almost  tropical  beauty.  The  piers  of  the  wharves 
at  Charleston  are  made  of  palmetto  wood — for  the  worm  that 
consumes  all  other  available  timber  spares  the  palmetto.  The 
wharves  of  Charleston,  though  not  so  busy  and  bustling  as  the 
levee  of  New  Orleans,  present  an  animated  spectacle,  and  the 
port  is  filled  with  vessels,  principally  from  Liverpool  and  Green- 
ock, taking  away  cotton  in  huge  and  multitudinous  bales  for 
the  mills  of  Manchester  and  Glasgow,  and  bringing  in  exchange 
for  the  white  freight  which  they  carry  home  the  black  freight 
of  the  English  and  Scottish  collieries.  Coal  for  cotton  or  rice 
is  the  ultimate  barter  into  which  the  commerce  of  Charleston 
often  resolves  itself,  to  the  mutual  advantage  of  all  concerned. 

Charleston  had  at  one  time  a  bad  name  for  its  inhospitable 
treatment  of  colored  seamen  who  came  from  Great  Britain, 


\m'. 


:4 


m 


i-r^i 


196 


LIFI  AND  LIBEBTT  IK  AMERICA. 


France,  or  the  free  utaUm  of  America  into  the  port  It  was 
the  rule,  rigidly  enforced,  that  such  Heamon,  whether  British 
subjects  or  not,  Hhould,  an  Boon  iw  the  veracl  arrived  in  the 
harbor,  be  conveyed  ashore  and  locked  up  in  prison  until  such 
time  as  the  cn{)tain  should  notify  to  the  authorities  that  ho 
was  ready  to  depart,  when  his  men  were  restored  to  him  under 
strong  escort,  and  safely  dei>ot*ited  on  board  without  having 
been  permitted  to  exchange  a  word  with  any  inhabitant  of 
Charleston,  black  or  white,  lliis  law  led,  as  a  natural  con- 
sequence, to  frequent  misunderstandings,  and  often  to  recla- 
mation, on  the  part  of  the  British  authorities.  The  rigor  of 
the  rule  has  lately  been  somewhat  relaxed,  chiefly,  if  not  en- 
tirely, through  the  exertions  of  Mr.  Bunch,  the  present  Brit- 
ish consul  for  North  and  South  Carolina.  Thanks  to  his  ex- 
ertions, the  colored  seaman,  instead  of  being  treated  as  a  folon, 
is  allowed  to  remain  on  board  of  his  ship  in  the  harbor  pro- 
vided he  or  his  captain  can  procure  bail  or  security  that  ho 
will  not  attempt  to  go  on  shore.  If  a  free  colored  seaman  pre- 
sume, in  deflance  of  this  law,  to  walk  in  the  streets  of  Charles- 
ton, his  bail  is  forfeited,  and  he  is  marched  off  to  prison  as  a 
felon.  It  will  be  seen,  although  the  system  is  an  improvement 
on  that  which  previously  existed,  that  the  people  of  Charles- 
ton are  still  too  much  alarmed  at  the  idea  of  the  consequences 
which  might  result  from  the  admixture,  even  for  a  short  pe- 
riod, of  free  negroes  among  their  slaves,  and  from  the  inter- 
change of  ideas  between  them,  to  do  justice  either  to  thera- 
selvep,  to  their  port,  to  free  black  men,  or  to  the  maritime  na- 
tions of  Europe  with  whom  they  trade.  But  slavery  is  a  sore 
subject  in  South  Carolina  and  in  Charleston,  though  not,  per- 
haps, more  so  than  it  is  in  Louisiana,  Alabama,  Mississippi,  Ten- 
nessee, Arkansas,  and  Georgia.  Every  night  at  nine  o'clock 
the  bells  of  St.  Michael's  ring  as  a  signal  to  the  negroes  to  re- 
turn to  their  homes.  A  quarter  of  an  hour  is  given  them  to 
wend  their  way  to  the  abodes  of  their  masters ;  and  any  negro, 
male  or  female,  young  or  old,  who  is  fornd  in  the  streets  after 
that  hour  without  a  written  permit  or  warrant  from  his  own- 
er, is  liable  to  be  led  off  to  prison  and  locked  up  until  the 
morning. 


BOUm  OAROUNA. 


197 


was 

itwh 

1  Uio 
such 

at  ho 

under 

laving 

,nt  of 

1  con- 
rccla- 

gor  of 

»ot  en- 

it  Brit- 

hi8  ex- 

a  iblon, 

or  pro- 
thai  ho 

lan  pre- 

Charles- 

3on  as  a 

overaent 

Charles- 
iquences 

ihort  pc- 
le  inter- 

|to  them- 
lime  na- 
18  a  Bore 
not,  per- 
Lppi,Tcn- 
^e  o'clock 
tes  to  rc- 
them  to 
^ny  negro, 
•eets  after 
his  own- 
until  the 


And,  whilo  upon  the  nubjoct  of  ftlaveiy,  I  may  be  pormittoil 
to  mention  the  univertiul  anxiety  which  prevails  at  the  South 
that  strangers,  and  especially  EngliMhmcn,  should  see  the  so- 
cial operation  of  the  system  at  the  plantations  and  elsewhere, 
and  judge  for  themselves  as  to  the  condition  of  the  negroes. 
Tito  slave-owners,  who,  as  fur  as  my  observation  has  extend- 
ed, appear  to  bo  very  urbane,  polished,  gentlemanly,  and  es- 
timable persons,  imagine,  from  the  exaggerations  which  have 
been  circulated  respecting  negro  slavery,  that  Englishmen  who 
have  never  been  in  America  are  predisposed  to  look  upon 
them  as  monstera  of  ferocity  and  oppression  ;  as  tyrants  who 
maim  and  scourge,  harass  and  persecute  the  black  race,  and 
as  iK)sitivo  ogres  of  lust  and  cruelty.  When  they  prove,  as 
they  may  easily  do,  that  they  treat  their  slaves  with  kind- 
ness, and  that,  as  a  rule,  slaves  are  better  clad,  fed,  and  cared 
for  than  the  agricultural  laborers  of  Euro^  ^  or  the  slop  tai- 
lors and  seamstresses  of  London  and  Liverpool,  they  imagine 
that  they  cover  the  whole  ground  of  objection  to  slavery. 

The  writers  in  the  slave  interest  love  to  draw  a  contrast 
between  the  "  hireling"  of  Europe  and  the  "  slave"  of  Amer- 
ica, in  which  they  give  all  the  advantage  to  the  latter.  They 
dilate  upon  the  certainty  of  subsistence  in  return  for  his  labor 
which  the  slave  enjoys,  and  upon  the  uncertainty  that  attends 
upon  the  life  and  the  struggles  of  the  free  man,  or,  as  they 
contemptuously  call  him,  the  "  hireling."  They  assert  that 
the  free  man  is  only  of  value  whilo  lio  can  work ;  that  if  he 
is  sick  and  unable  to  labor  he  must  starve,  unless  for  public 
or  private  charity ;  but  that  the  slave  is  subject  to  no  such 
hazards;  that  his  subsistence  is  secured  from  the  cradle  to 
the  grave,  and  that  he  i?  happier  than  the  free  man,  from  the 
absence  of  all  care  for  the  morrow.  They  refuse  to  argue  the 
question  upon  higher  ground  than  that  of  the  mere  animal 
well-being  of  the  human  cattle  whom  they  buy  and  sell,  and 
breed  for  profit.  They  seem  to  be  satisfied  if  they  can  con- 
vince the  stranger  from  a  far  country  that  they  treat  their 
poor  dependents  and  immortal  chattels  with  common  hu- 
manity. 

A  few  of  them  go  still  farther,  and  justify  slavery  not  only 


Ui^  ■ 


t-< 


198 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


3  !la£': 


by  expediency  and  necessity,  but  by  social  and  economic  con- 
siderations— by  philosophy  and  ethnology,  and  even  by  relig- 
ion. They  support  it  by  the  Old  Testament  and  by  the 
New,  by  the  Pentateuch  and  by  the  Book  of  Kevclations,  by 
Moses  and  by  St.  John  the  Evangelist.  Some  of  them  go  so 
far  as  to  assert  that  it  is  impious  to  attempt  to  abolish  slavery, 
inasmuch  as  at  the  end  of  the  world — at  the  opening  of  the 
Sixth  Seal  (Revelations,  chap,  vi.,  v.  15) — there  will  be  slav- 
ery in  the  world,  because  it  is  written  that  "  every  bondman 
ayd  every  free  man"  will  at  that  day  hide  himself  in  the  dens 
and  rocks  of  the  mountains  from  the  wrath  of  God.  They 
support  it  by  their  attachment  to  the  doctrines  of  Christianity, 
and  allege  that  in  their  opinion  slavery  would  be  a  good  thing 
in  itself,  if  for  no  other  reason  than  that  it  made  the  benight- 
ed African  conversant  with  the  great  truths  of  the  Gospel, 
which  he  could  not  otherwise  have  known,  and  that  it  raised 
him  from  the  condition  of  paganism  in  his  own  land  to  that 
of  Christianism  in  another. 

At  Charleston  a  book  was  put  into  my  hand  setting  forth 
in  glowing  language  the  happy  condition  of  the  slave  in  Amer- 
ica and  the  unhappy  condition  of  the  free  working  man  in 
England,  France,  and  Germany.  One  of  the  chief  arguments 
of  the  author  was  employed  to  demolish  the  logic  of  a  writer 
in  the  Westminster  Review,  who  had  cited  among  other  objec- 
tions to  slavery  that  it  demoralized  the  slave-owner  far  more 
than  it  did  the  slave,  and  that  slavery  was  to  be  condemned 
for  the  very  same  reasons  that  induced  the  British  Legislature 
to  pass  a  law  against  cruelty  to  animals — cruelty  which  was 
not  only  objectionable,  and  worthy  of  punishment  because  it 
inflicted  wrong  upon  the  inferior  creation,  but  because  it  bru- 
talized and  degraded  the  human  beings  who  were  guilty  of  it. 
"  Very  true,"  said  the  pro-slavery  writer  in  a  tone  of  triumph, 
"  very  true }  but  did  the  British  Legislature,  in  its  zeal  in  this 
cause,  ever  go  so  far  as  to  decree  the  manumission  of  horses  ?" 
And,  as  if  this  argument  were  a  triumphant  answer  to  all  ob- 
jections, he  left  the  Westminster  reviewer,  without  deigning 
to  take  farther  notice  of  him,  crushed  under  the  weight  of 
such  tremendous  logic  I 


A  BICE  PLANTATION. 


199 


jlig- 

the 
S  by 
;o  BO 
very, 
f  the 
slav- 
ilman 

dens 
They 
anity, 

thing 
night- 
rospel, 

raised 
to  that 

g  forth 
Amer- 
nan  in 
uments 
writer 
objec- 
iT  more 
iemned 
islature 
eh  was 
:au8e  it 
it  bru- 
ty  of  it. 
riumph, 
in  this 
orsesi" 
all  ob- 
eigning 
bight  of 


The  slaye-owners,  as  a  body,  are  not  cruel,  and  many  of 
them  treat  their  slaves  with  paternal  and  patriarchal  kind- 
ness ;  but  they  are  blinded  by  education  and  habits,  as  well 
as  supposed  self-interest,  to  the  real  evils  of  a  system  the  hor- 
rors of  which  they  do  their  best  to  alleviate.  In  my  next  let- 
ter, without  entering  into  any  argument  pro  or  con,  I  shall  de- 
scribe my  visit  to  a  very  large  rice  plantation  near  this  city, 
where  upward  of  two  hundred  slaves  are  employed,  and  where 
the  system  is  in  full  operation. 


CHAPTER  XXTV. 


A    BICE    PLANTATION. 


Charleston,  South  Carolina,  March,  1858. 
In  visiting  a  rice  plantation,  my  object  was  not  so  much  to 
satisfy  myself  that  the  slave-owners  of  America  are  kind  to 
their  negroes,  as  to  satisfy  the  public  opinion  of  Charleston 
that  English  travelers  are  not  prejudiced  against  Southern 
proprietors,  and  that  they  are  willing  to  be  convinced,  by  oc- 
ular demonstration,  that  humanity  and  generosity  toward  the 
negro  race  may  exist  in  the  bosoms  and  sway  the  actions  of 
men  who  hold  property  in  their  fellows.     So  much  exaggera- 
tion has  entered  into  the  descriptions  of  negro  life  in  the 
South,  which  have  been  given  to  the  world  by  writers  who 
have  earned  for  themselves  the  title  of  "malignant  philan- 
thropists," that  the  slave-owners  actually  think  they  have 
sufficiently  vindicated  slavery  when  they  have  proved,  as  they 
easily  can,  that  they  do  not  scourge,  disfigure,  maim,  starve, 
or  kill  their  negroes,  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  they  feed 
them  well,  clothe  them  well,  provide  them  with  good  medical 
attendance  for  the  ills  of  the  flesh,  and  spiritual  consolation 
for  the  doubts  and  distresses  of  the  soul.    They  will  not  stand 
on  higher  ground.     But  far  different  is  the  case  with  those 
educated  in  the  different  moral  atmosphere  of  Europe.     On 
my  first  arrival  at  New  Orleans  I  lingered  for  a  few  moments 
at  the  open  door  of  a  slave  depot,  without  daring  to  go  in, 
lest  I  should  be  suspected  of  espionage  or  of  idle  curiosity, 


t 


200 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


and  expelled.  But  seeing  among  tho  company  an  eminent 
merchant  of  New  York,  whose  friendship  I  had  been  fortunate 
enough  to  make,  and  whom  I  knew  to  be  no  slave-dealer  or 
supporter  of  slavery,  I  walked  in  and  joined  his  party,  drawn 
thither,  like  myself,  by  curiosity.  On  one  side  of  the  room 
the  male  slaves,  with  clean  linen,  and  shining  new  hats  and 
boots,  were  arranged,  and  on  the  other  the  females  were  dis- 
posed in  their  best  attire,  most  of  them  exceedingly  neat,  but 
some  bedizened  with  ribbons  of  colors  more  flaring  and  taw- 
dry than  elegant  or  appropriate.  I  was  immediately  beset 
with  entreaties  to  purchase. 

"  Achetez-moi,"  said  a  young  negress  in  French ;  "  je  suis 
bonne  cuisiniere,  et  couturi^re.     Achetez-moi !" 

"Buy  me,"  said  another,  in  the  same  language;  "I  am 
accustomed  to  children,  and  can  make  myself  useful  in  the 
nursery." 

I  felt  a  sensation  something  similar  to  that  of  the  first  qualm 
of  sea-sickness  to  be  so  addressed  by  my  fellow  creatures — a 
feeling  of  nausea,  as  if  I  were  about  to  be  ill.  I  told  the  poor 
women  that  I  was  a  stranger  who  had  not  come  to  buy.  But 
they  were  incredulous ;  and,  when  at  last  convinced,  they  re- 
turned to  their  seats  with  a  sigh  and  an  expression  of  deep 
disappointment  on  their  dark  and  good-humored  features.  I 
entertained  at  that  moment  such  a  hatred  of  slavery  that,  had 
it  been  in  my  power  to  abolish  it  in  one  instant  off  the  face 
of  the  earth  by  the  mere  expression  of  my  will,  slavery  at  that 
instant  would  have  ceased  to  exist. 

I  then  walked  to  the  male  side  of  the  slave  mart,  where  I 
,  was  beset  by  similar  entreaties,  urged  in  every  variety  of  tone 
and  manner,  and  by  almost  every  variety  of  laborer  and  handi- 
craftsman. Some  were  accustomed  to  the  cotton,  and  some 
to  the  sugar  plantation ;  some  were  carpenters,  some  garden- 
ers, some  coachmen,  some  barbers,  some  waiters ;  but  all  were 
equally  anxious  to  be  sold.  One  man — who,  to  my  inexperi- 
enced eyes,  seemed  as  white  as  myself,  and  whom  I  at  once 
put  down  in  my  own  mind  as  an  Irishman,  of  the  purest 
quality  of  the  county  of  Cork — got  up  from  his  seat  as  I 
passed,  and  asked  me  to  buy  him;  "I  am  a  good  gardener, 


A  RICE  PLANTATION. 


201 


nent 
nato 
ir  or 
rawn 
room 
\  and 
B  di8- 
t,  but 
[  taw- 
beset 

je  suia 

'I  am 

in  the 

t  qualm 
iires — a 
he  poor 
f.    But 
they  re- 
of  deep 
ires.    I 
hat,  had 
the  face 
at  that 


your  honor/*  said  he,  with  an  unmistakable  brogue.  "  I  am 
also  a  bit  of  a  carpenter,  and  can  look  ai'ter  the  horses,  and  do 
any  sort  of  odd  job  about  the  house." 

"  But  you  are  joking,"  said  I ;  "  you  are  an  Irishman  V* 

"  My  father  was  an  Irishman,"  he  said. 

At  this  moment  the  slave-dealer  and  owner  of  the  depdt 
came  up. 

"Is  there  not  a  mistake  here?"  I  inquired.  "This  is  a 
white  man." 

"  His  mother  was  a  nigger,"  he  replied.  "  We  have  some- 
times much  whiter  men  for  sale  than  he  is.  Look  at  his  hair 
and  lips.     There  is  no  mistake  about  him." 

Again  the  sickness  came  over  me,  and  I  longed  to  get  into 
the  open  air  to  breathe  the  purer  atmosphere. 

"  I  would  like  to  buy  that  man  and  set  him  free,"  I  said  to 
my  friend  from  New  York. 

"  You  would  do  him  no  good,"  was  the  reply.  "  A  manu- 
mitted slave  has  seldom  any  self-reliance  or  enei^.  Slavery 
so  degrades  and  cripples  the  moral  faculties  of  the  negroes 
that  they  require  the  crutch,  even  in  freedom,  and  can  not 
walk  alone.  They  find  it  impossible  to  compete  with  the  free 
whites,  and,  if  left  to  themselves,  sink  into  the  lowest  and  most 
miserably-paid  occupations." 

"You  are  an  Englishman  and  a  traveler,"  said  the  slave- 
dealer,  "  and  I  should  be  much  obliged  to  you  if  you  would 
put  any  questions  to  the  negroes." 

"What  questions'?"  said  I.  "ShalLI  ask  them  whether 
they  would  prefer  freedom  or  slavery  V* 

"I  don't  mean  that,"  he  replied.  "Ask  them  whether  I 
do  not  treat  them  well?  whether  I  am  not  kind  to  them? 
whether  they  do  not  have  plenty  to  eat  and  drink  while  they 
are  with  me  f 

I  told  him  that  I  had  no  doubt  of  the  fact ;  that  they  look- 
ed clean,  comfortable,  and  well  fed ;  but —  And  in  that  "  but" 
lay  the  whole  case,  though  the  worthy  dealer  of  New  Orleans 
was  totally  incapable  of  comprehending  it. 

As  already  mentioned,  I  had  received  many  invitations 
while  in  the  South  to  visit  plantations  of  cotton,  sugar,  and 

12 


i: 


202 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA, 


r:  ! 


rice,  that  I  might  see  the  slaves  in  their  homes,  and  waich 
them  at  their  labors  in  the  field  or  the  swamp,  and  judge  for 
myself  whether  they  were  well  or  ill  treated,  and  whether  their 
owners  were  men  of  the  patriarchal  type,  like  Abraham  of  old, 
or  of  the  type  of  Blunderbore  in  the  child's  story — ogres  of 
cruelty  and  oppression.  I  was  unable  to  accept  any  of  thoso 
invitations  until  my  arrival  in  Charleston,  when  I  gladly 
availed  myself  of  the  opportunity  afforded  me  by  the  courteous 
hospitality  of  General  Gadsden  to  visit  his  rice  plantation  at 
Fimlico.  The  general  is  known  both  to  Europe  and  America 
as  the  negotiator  of  the  famous  Gadsden  Treaty  with  Mexico, 
by  means  of  which  a  portion  of  the  large  province  of  Sonora 
was  annexed  to  the  already  overgrown  dominion  of  Brother 
Jonathan.  His  estate  at  Fimlico  is  situated  about  twenty- 
seven  miles  from  Charleston.  The  general  owns  on  tliin 
property  between  two  and  three  hundred  slaves,  but  only  re- 
sides upon  it  for  a  small  portion  of  the  year,  having  poHSCS- 
sions  in  Florida  and  other  parts  of  the  Union,  and  being  com- 
pelled, like  all  other  men  of  European  blood,  to  avoid,  in  the 
warm  weather,  the  marshy  regions  favorable  to  rice  cultiva- 
tion. 

From  Charleston  the  railway  for  twenty  miles  runs  as 
straight  as  an  arrow's  flight  through  a  forest  of  primeval  pine. 
These  melancholy  trees  form  the  most  conspicuous  feature  of 
the  landscape  in  the  two  Carolinas  and  in  Georgia.  Often 
for  whole  days,  and  for  hundreds  of  miles,  the  traveler  sees  no 
other  vegetation  but  this  rank,  monotonous  forest  growth. 
Here  and  there  a  clearing,  here  and  there  a  swamp,  hero  and 
there  a  village,  dignified  with  the  title  of  a  town  or  of  a  city, 
and  one  unvarying  level  of  rich  but  uncultivated  land— such 
is  the  general  characteristic  of  the  "  sunny  South"  as  the  trav- 
eler leaves  the  sea-board  and  penetrates  inward  to  the  great 
valley  of  the  Mississippi.  In  less  than  an  hour  and  a  half  our 
train  stopped  at  a  station  at  which  there  was  neither  clerk, 
nor  check-taker,  nor  porter,  nor  official  of  any  kind.  Having 
descended,  luggage  in  hand,  we  saw  our  train  dart  away  into 
the  long-receding  vista  of  the  forest,  and  awaited  in  solitude 
the  vehicle  which  had  been  ordered  fi'om  Fimlico  to  convoy  us 


H 


A  RICE   PLANTATION. 


208 


al  pine, 
ture  of 

Often 
RceH  no 
growth, 
ore  and 
f  a  city, 
d— fiuch 
ho  trav- 
lio  great 
half  our 
or  clerk, 

Having 
way  into 

solitude 
sonvcy  u» 


to  the  plantation.    We  being  before,  or  the  negro-driver  after 
the  appointed  time,  wc  had  to  remain  about  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  at  tlic  station,  and  amuse  ourselves  as  best  wc  might. 
Though  the  station  itself  was  deserted,  a  small  log  hut  and  in- 
closure  almost  immediately  opposite  swarmed  with  life.     A 
whole  troop  of  ragged  children,  with  fair  hair  and  blue  eyes, 
played  about  the  clearing ;  a  donkey  browsed  upon  the  scanty 
undergrowth  ;  cocks  crowed  upon  the  fence ;  hens  cackled  in 
the  yard ;  and  lean  pigs  prowled  about  in  every  direction, 
seeking  what  they  might  devour.    The  loneliness  of  the  place, 
with  the  deep,  thick  pine  woods  all  around  it,  and  the  shiny  lines 
of  rail  stretching  as  far  as  the  vision  could  penetrate  in  one 
unbroken  parallel  into  the  wilderness,  suggested  the  inquiry 
as  to  who  and  what  were  the  inhabitants  of  the  log  hut. 
"The  pest  of  the  neighborhood,"    was  the  reply.     "Here 
lives  a  German  Jew  and  his  family,  who  keep  a  store  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  negroes."    "  And  how  a  pest  V*    "  The 
negroes  require  no  accommodation,     'f'hey  are  supplied  by 
their  owners  with  every  thing  necessary  for  their  health  and 
comfort;   but  they  resort  to  places  like  this  with  property 
which  they  steal  from  their  masters,  and  which  the  men  ex- 
change, at  most  nefarious  profit  to  the  Jew  receiver,  for  whis- 
ky and  tobacco,  and  which  the  females  barter  for  ribbons  and 
tawdry  finery.     Wherever  there  is  a  large  plantation,  these 
German  traders — if  it  be  not  a  desecration  of  the  name  of 
trade  to  apply  it  to  their  business — squat  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, build  up  a  wooden  shanty,  and  open  a  store.     If  a  sad- 
dle, a  coat,  or  a  watch  be  lost,  the  planter  may  be  tolerably 
certain  that  it  has  been  bartered  by  his  negroes  at  some  such 
place  as  this  for  whisky  or  tobacco.    The  business  is  so  profit- 
able that,  although  the  delinquent  may  be  sometimes  detected 
and  imprisoned,  he  soon  contrives  to  make  money  enough  to 
remove  with  his  ill-gotten  gains  to  the  Far  West,  where  his 
antecedents  are  unknown  and  never  inquired  after,  and  where, 
perhaps  under  a  new  name,  he  figures  as  a  great  merchant  in 
the  more  legitimate  business  of  a  dry-goods  store.'* 

A  drive  of  five  miles  through  the  forest,  in  the  course  of 
■which  we  had  to  cross  a  swamp  two  feet  deep  with  water, 


rl  ! 


204 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


brought  us  to  Pimlico  and  its  mansion,  pleasantly  embowered 
among  trees  of  greater  beauty  and  variety  than  we  had  passed 
on  our  way.  Among  these^  the  live  or  evergreen  oak,  the  cy- 
prtss,  the  cedar,  and  the  magnolia,  were  the  most  conspicuous. 
The  mansion,  like  most  of  the  houses  in  the  South,  whiBre 
trees  are  abundant  and  stone  is  scarce,  was  built  of  wood,  and 
gave  but  little  exterior  promise  of  the  comfort  and  elegance 
to  be  found  within.  Here  we  fared  sumptuously,  having  our 
choice  of  drinks,  from  London  porter  and  Allsop's  India  ale, 
to  Hock  and  Claret,  and  Catawba  and  Isabella,  of  Longworth's 
choicest  growth.  The  food  was  of  every  variety,  including 
fish  with  names  unknown  in  Europe,  but  of  most  excellent 
quality,  and  game  in  an  abundance  with  which  Europe  can 
scarcely  claim  equality.  The  greatest  novelty  was  the  small 
turtle  called  the  "cooter,"  similar  to,  but  smaller  than  the 
"  terrapin,"  so  well  known  and  esteemed  in  Baltimore,  Phil- 
adelphia, and  Washington.  The  "cooter"  is,  it  appears,  a 
perquisite  of  the  slaves.  They  will  not  themselves  eat  it, 
looking  upon  its  flesh  with  loathing  and  aversion,  but  in  their 
leisure  moments  they  seek  it  in  the  water-courses  and  trenches, 
or  at  the  borders  of  the  streams,  and  sell  it  to  their  masters. 
Among  other  privileges  which  they  are  allowed  may  be  here 
mentioned  that  of  keeping  poultry  on  their  own  account,  the 
profits  of  which  enable  them  to  buy  tobacco  for  themselves 
and  finery  for  their  wives. 

In  the  morning  we  sallied  over  the  plantation,  under  the 
guidance  of  the  general,  and  saw  the  whole  art  and  mystery 
of  rice  cultivation.  At  high  water,  the  river,  which  gives  the 
estate  its  value,  is  five  feet  above  the  level  of  the  rice-ground, 
so  that  by  means  of  sluices  it  is  easy  to  flood  the  plantation, 
or  any  part  of  it,  and  just  as  easy  to  let  off  the  water  as  soon 
as  the  growing  crop  has  received  a  sufilcient  steeping.  The 
rice  is  submitted  to  three  several  floodings  before  it  is  fit  to  be 
harvested.  The  first,  in  the  early  spring,  is  called  "  the  sprout 
flow ;"  the  second,  or  intermediate,  when  the  green  stalks 
have  acquired  a  certain  strength  and  height,  is  called  ^^  the  long 
flow ;"  and  the  last,  "  the  harvest  flow." 

Between  each  "  flow,"  the  slaves,  male  and  female,  arc  cm- 


A  RICE  PLANTATION. 


205 


jrcd 
ssed 
J  cy- 

lOUB. 

htere 
,  and 
ranee 
g  our 
%  ale, 
orth's 
uding 
lellent 
le  can 
I  small 
m  the^ 

ears,  a 
eat  it, 
in  their 
enches, 
nasters. 
be  here 
unt,  the 
smselves 

ader  the 
mystery 
dves  the 
-ground, 
intation, 
:  as  soon 
ig.    The 
J  fit  to  be 
le  sprout 
en  stalks 
the  long 

5,  arc  cm- 


ployed  in  gangs,  under  the  superintendence  of  the  overseer  (or 
<'  boss,*'  as  the  negroes  always  call  a  master  of  any  kind),  in 
hoeing  among  the  roots.  In  this  occupation  we  found  about 
a  hundred  and  fifty  of  them  in  different  parts  of  the  estate. 
They  were  not  asked  to  rest  from  their  labor  on  our  arrival. 
They  were  coarsely  but  comfortably  clad,  and  wore  that  cheer- 
ful good-humored  expression  of  countenance  which  seems  to 
bo  the  equivalent  and  the  compensation  granted  by  paternal 
Providence  for  their  loss  of  freedom.  Measured  by  mere  phys- 
ical enjoyment,  and  absence  of  care  or  thought  of  the  morrow, 
the  slave  Ls,  doubtless,  as  a  general  rule,  fur  happier  than  his 
master.  His  wants  are  few,  he  is  easily  satisfied,  and  his  toil 
is  not  excessive. 

Rambling  along  the  raised  dikes  and  sluices,  the  strangers 
of  the  party  were  surprised  to  see  the  immense  flocks  of  birds 
which  suddenly  rose  from  the  ground  or  from  the  low  bushes 
that  fringed  the  stream,  and  which  sometimes  settled  upon  a 
tree  in  countless  thousands  till  the  branches  seemed  to  bend 
beneath  their  weight.    They  were  declared  to  be  blackbirds ; 
but  a  boy  of  about  twelve  years  of  age,  the  adopted  son  of  the 
the  general,  who  had  been  out  all  the  morning  with  his  gun 
making  havoc  among  them,  having  brought  one  for  our  in- 
spection, it  was  found  to  be  very  different  from  the  blackbird 
of  Europe.     It  wanted  the  golden  bill  and  the  glowing  plu- 
mage, and  had,  instead  of  them,  a  white  bill  and  a  breast 
speckled  like  that  of  the  English  thrush.    It  was  too  early  in 
the  season  for  the  alligators  to  make  their  appearance ;  but 
they  swarm  in  the  river  in  the  months  of  June  and  July,  and 
commit  sad  depredation,  not  only  among  the  fish,  but  among 
the  ducks  and  geese,  or  wild-fowl  that  frequent  the  stream. 
Alligators  are  said  to  be  quite  equal  to  the  Chinese  in  their 
partiality  for  dogs  and  cats  when  they  can  get  hold  of  them  •, 
but  cats  are  proverbial  for  their  dislike  of  water,  and  dogs  are 
too  knowing  to  treat  themselves  to  the  luxury  of  a  bath  in  any 
stream  where  the  alligator  is  found,  so  that  the  poor  alligator 
seldom  enjoys  the  dainty  that  he  most  loves.     But  the  bark 
of  a  dog  excites  him  as  much  as  the  sight  of  a  live  turtle  does 
a  London  alderman ;  and  you  have  but  to  bring  a  dog  to  the 


'."ft 


\-< .   >  i 


V    %'<«:.W' 


206 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


brink  of  a  river  and  make  him  bark,  when  the  alligatow,  un- 
less they  suspect  mischief,  will  pop  their  long  noses  out  of  the 
water,  and  yearn  for  the  delicacy  which  hard  Fate  has  denied 
them. 

From  the  rice-grounds  our  party  proceeded  to  the  negro  vil- 
lage where  the  slaves  resided.  Most  of  the  occupiers  were  at 
work  in  the  fields ;  but  v/e  entered  some  of  the  tenements,  and 
found  nothing  to  object  to  on  the  score  of  comfort.  To  each 
hut  was  attached  a  plot  of  ground  for  a  garden ;  but  none  of 
the  gardens  were  cultivated,  or  gave  the  slightest  promise  of  a 
flower.  In  one  there  was  a  luxuriant  peach-tree  in  full  bloom 
— a  perfect  blaze  of  crimson  beauty — but,  as  a  general  rule,  the 
negro  has  either  no  love  of  gardens,  or  no  time  to  attend  to 
their  cultivation.  From  all  I  could  gather  here  and  elsewhere, 
and  as  the  result  of  my  own  observation,  the  former  and  not 
the  latter  reason  explains  the  neglect  of  this  beautiful  and  in- 
nocent means  of  enjoyment  which  both  climate  and  circum- 
stances place  within  the  reach  of  the  black  population. 

In  the  village  there  were  a  hospital,  an  infirmary  for  the 
sick,  a  chapel,  where  twice  every  Sunday  Divine  service  was 
performed  by  a  missionary,  allowed  to  have  access  to  the  slaves 
upon  condition  of  not  preaching  freedom  to  them,  and  a  nurs- 
ery, where  the  young  children,  from  the  earliest  age  upward 
to  fourteen,  were  taken  care  of  during  the  absence  of  their 
parents  in  the  fields.  The  elder  boys  and  girls  were  made  use- 
ful in  nursing  the  infants ;  and  the  whole  swarm,  to  the  num- 
ber of  nearly  seventy,  were  drawn  up  by  the  side  of  the  road, 
and  favored  us  with  several  specimens  of  their  vocal  powers. 
The  general  declared  them  to  be  "hominy-eaters"  and  not 
workers ;  and  they  certainly  looked  as  if  hominy  agreed  with 
them,  for  a  plumper  and  more  joyous  set  of  children  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  assemble  together  in  any  country  under 
the  sun.  Their  songs  were  somewhat  more  hearty  than  mu- 
sical. The  entertainment  was  concluded  by  the  Methodist 
hymn,  "  And  that  will  be  joyful,  joyful,"  which  the  vocifer- 
ous singers  contrived  unconsciously  to  turn  into  a  comic  song. 
But  this  feat,  I  may  as  well  mention,  is  not  peculiar  to  little 
negroes,  for  some  obstreperous  free  Americans  on  board  of  our 


i 


ti 


A  RICK  PLANTATION. 


207 


outT7ard-bound  steamer  favored  their  follow-passengon  with  a 
similar  exhibition,  and  even  managed  to  make  a  comic  song 
out  of  the  «  Old  Hundreth." 

We  were  next  introduced  to  "  Uncle  Tom" — such  was  the 
name  by  which  he  had  been  known  long  before  the  publication - 
of  Mrs.  Stowe's  novel — a  venerable  negro  who  had  been  fifty 
years  upon  the  plantation.  His  exact  age  was  not  known,  but 
he  was  a  strong  hearty  man  when  brought  from  the  coast  of 
Africa  in  the  year  1808.  "  Tom"  had  been  sold  by  some  petty 
African  king  or  chief  at  the  small  price  of  un  ounce  of  tobacco, 
and  had  been  brought  over  with  upward  of  two  hundred  sim- 
ilar unfortunates  by  an  American  slaver.  He  was  still  hale 
and  vigorous,  and  had  within  a  few  years  married  a  young 
wife  belonging  to  a  neighboring  planter.  He  was  told  by  the 
general  that  I  had  come  to  take  him  back  to  Africa ;  an  an- 
nouncement which  seemed  to  startle  and  distress  him,  for  he 
suddenly  fell  on  his  knees  before  me,  clasped  his  hands,  and 
implored  me  in  very  imperfect  and  broken  English  to  let  him 
stay  where  he  was.  Every  one  that  he  had  known  in  Africa 
must  have  long  since  died ;  the  ways  of  his  own  country  would 
be  strange  to  him,  and  perhaps  his  own  countrymen  would 
put  him  to  death,  or  sell  him  again  into  slavery  to  some  new 
roaster.  He  was  much  relieved  to  find  that  my  intentions 
were  neither  so  large  nor  so  benevolent,  though  malevolent 
would  perhaps  be  a  better  word  to  express  the  idea  which  im- 
pressed itself  upon  his  mind  in  reference  to  my  object  in  visit- 
ing him.  The  old  man  was  presented  with  a  cigar  by  one  of 
our  party,  and  with  a  glass  of  whisky  ty  the  general's  or- 
ders, and  he  courteously  drank  the  health  of  every  one  pres- 
ent, both  collectively  and  individually.  Drinking  to  a  lady, 
he  expressed  the  gallant  wish  that  she  might  grow  more  beau- 
tiful as  she  grew  older ;  and  to  the  donor  of  the  cigar,  he  ut- 
tered his  hope  that  at  the  last  day  "  Gor  Almighty  might  hide 
him  in  some  place  where  the  devil  not  know  where  to  find 
him." 

On  this  plantation  I  have  no  doubt,  from  what  I  saw,  that 
the  slaves  are  kindly  treated,  and  that  the  patriarchal  relation 
in  all  its  best  aspects  exists  between  the  master  and  his  poor 


208 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


PI. 


if! 


dependents.  But  I  do  not  wish  to  depict  this  one  as  a  sample 
of  all,  but  confine  myBell*  to  a  simple  narrative  of  what  I  saw. 
Slavery  has  many  aH|>oct8,  and  ujion  some  future  occasion  I 
may  be  enabled  to  state  some  other  facts,  less  patent,  which 
may  throw  light  upon  its  operation  not  only  upon  the  fortunes 
and  character  of  the  white  men  who  hold  them  in  bondage, 
but  upon  the  future  destinies  of  the  United  States  of  America. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

SAVANNAH   AND  THE  SEA  ISLANDS. 

March,  1858. 
From  Charleston  to  Savannah  by  sea  is  a  distance  of  one 
hundred  miles ;  by  land — there  being  no  railway  communica- 
tion, except  by  traversing  two  sides  of  a  triangle — the  distance 
is  about  two  hundred.  A  direct  coast  railway  Is  in  course  of 
construction ;  but  at  present  most  travelers,  except  those  who 
are  very  bad  sailors,  prefer  the  sea  passage.  As  I  had  already 
gone  over  a  considerable  portion  of  the  land  route,  through  the 
pine  forests  of  Georgia  and  South  Carolina, 

"  Where,  northward  as  you  go, 
The  pines  forever  grow ; 
"Where,  southward  if  you  bend, 
Are  pine-trees  without  end ; 
Where,  if  you  travel  west, 
Earth  loves  the  pine-tree  best ; 
Where,  eastward  if  you  gaze. 
Through  long,  unvaried  ways. 
Behind  you  and  before,  ^ 

Are  pine-trees  evermore ;" 

I  preferred  the  sea,  as  oifering  more  comfort,  as  well  as  more 
novelty,  than  the  land  route.  Taking  my  passage  in  the  tidy 
little  boat,  the  St.  Mary*8,  bound  for  the  St.  John's  River  in 
Florida,  and  touching  at  Savannah,  I  found  myself  in  comfort- 
able quarters.  The  crew  consisted  entirely  of  negro  slaves ; 
the  only  white  men  on  board,  the  passengers  excepted,  being 
the  captain  and  the  clerk.  There  are  two  routes  to  Savannah 
by  sea— one  the  outer,  and  one  the  inner — and  the  St,  Mari/s 


SAVANNAH  AND  THE  BEA  ISLANDS. 


209 


\  ■ 


being  more  of  a  river  thnn  a  sea  boat,  only  ventures  on  tho 
outer  passage  when  tho  weather  is  calm.  Such  being  the  case 
on  this  particular  day,  wo  made  a  short  and  pleasant  passage, 
leaving  the  harbor  of  Charleston  at  nine  in  tho  morning,  and 
arriving  at  Savannah  before  seven  in  the  evening.  It  was  not 
until  wo  arrived  at  the  mouth  of  the  Savannah  Uivcr,  and  be- 
gan to  steam  up  for  eighteen  miles  to  tlie  city,  that  tho  scenery 
offered  any  attractions.  On  each  side  was  a  low,  flat,  fertile 
country,  with  reeds  twenty  feet  high — the  summer  haunts  of 
the  alligator — growing  upon  tho  bank,  and  the  land  studded 
with  palmetto  trees,  rice  plantations,  and  negro  villages.  As 
the  night  darkened  tho  blozo  of  a  burning  forest  lit  up  tho 
whole  of  the  landward  horizon,  and  gave  lurid  evidence  that 
man  was  at  work,  and  displacing  tho  wilderness  to  make  room 
for  rice  and  cotton.  Tho  flocks  of  wild-fowl  upon  tho  Savan- 
nah positively  darkened  the  air,  and,  when  the  birds  descended 
to  feed  or  rest,  it  seemed  as  if  black  clouds,  moved  by  their 
own  volition,  had  taken  refuge  among  tho  reeds  and  canes. 
The  Savannah  River  divides  the  States  of  Georgia  and  South 
Carolina  for  a  portion  of  its  length.  It  is  navigable  for  sea 
steamers  only  as  far  as  the  city  of  Savannah,  and  for  steamers 
of  a  smaller  draught  as  far  as  Augusta,  the  second  city  of 
Georgia,  230  miles  inland. 

Savannah  was  founded  in  1732  by  the  celebrated  General 
Oglethorpe,  and  is  tho  chief  city  of  Georgia,  though  not  tho 
capital,  that  honor  being  conferred,  as  is  usual  in  the  States, 
upon  a  more  central  plac^,  of  very  inferior  importance.  Mil- 
ledgeville,  the  political  capital,  contains  a  population  of  about 
3000  persons,  while  Savannah,  tho  commercial  capital,  has  a 
population  of  upward  of  30,000,  of  whom  about  one  half  are 
slaves.  Of  all  the  cities  in  America,  none  impresses  itself 
more  vividly  upon  the  imagination  and  the  memory  than  this 
little  green  bowery  city  of  the  South.  It  stands  upon  a  ter- 
race about  forty  feet  higher  than  the  river,  and  presents  the 
appearance  of  an  agglomeration  of  rural  hamlets  and  small 
towns.  If  four-and-twenty  villages  had  resolved  to  hold  a 
meeting,  and  had  assembled  at  this  place,  each  with  its  pump, 
its  country  church,  its  common,  and  its  avenue  of  trees,  the 


* 

'i 


.  ..J 

■    i 


mM 


imi 


T    I 


'\  \     ■   v. 


210 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


result  would  have  been  a  fac  simile  of  Savannah.  Twentj- 
four  open  spaces,  as  large  as,  or  larger  than  Bedford  Square, 
with  a  pump  in  the  middle,  a  church  or  a  bank  at  one  side, 
and  neat  wooden  and  stone  houses  around^  the  o[)en  spaces 
being  laid  out  into  walks  and  drives,  and  thi oikly  planted  with 
trees,  among  which  the  flowering  China-tree  or  pride  of  India, 
the  oclanthus,  and  the  evergreen  ouk  are  the  most  prominent — 
such  are  the  component  parts  and  general  aspect  of  Savan- 
nah, llio  soil  is  so  loose  and  sandy  that  n  good  road  is  a 
luxury  to  be  read  of  and  imagined  by  the  people,  but  no^  • 
be  enjoyed  for  want  of  stone  and  every  other  material  "•  sut- 
flcient  hardness.  There  is,  it  is  true,  about  a  mile  and  n  hri'f 
of  shell  road  leading  toward  the  lovely  estate  f  13<  <i  ivcnfun* 
on  which  a  carriage  can  roll  with  a  moderate  axuoijui,  of  com- 
fort. This  road  gives  so  much  satisfaction  that  the  peopie 
are  determined  to  extend  it,  and  to  imitate  it  in  other  dii^c- 
tions  by  such  means  as  fortune  and  circumstances  have  placed 
within  their  control.  Like  all  Americans,  wbotbor  of  the 
North  or  the  South,  the  inhabitants  of  Savannah,  rich  or 
poor,  free  or  slave,  consume  immense  quantities  of  oysters. 
For  breakfast,  fcp-  dinner,  and  for  supper,  oysters,  in  one  for» 
or  another,  arc  sure  to  be  supplied  to  all  above  the  poorest 
classes  of  the  population ;  and  here  there  are  few  who  can  be 
called  as  absolutely  poor  as  their  compeers  in  Europe.  The 
result  is,  according  to  the  calculation  of  a  notable  inhabitant, 
that  Savannah  consumes  in  a  year  a  sufficient  quantity  of 
oysters  to  leave  shells  enough  for  the  construction  of  one 
mile  of  road.  But  at  present  the  roads  are  no  exception  to 
the  general  badness  of  American  thoroughfares.  They  are 
dusty  and  rutty  in  the  fine  wea^^if  r,  niuf^Jy  and  rutty  when  it 
rains. 

The  view  from  the  Custom-iioitbc  and  Exchange,  and  from 
the  street  occupied  by  the  stores,  offices,  and  warehouses  of 
the  merchants,  and  which  skirts  the  river  for  a  mile,  extends 
to  the  distant  horizon  over  a  low,  flat  country,  covered  for 
*^he  m<  t  part  with  rice  plantations  and  marshy  ground.  A 
gentle  nan  of  this  city  who  had  flUed  a  diplomatic  appoint- 
ment in  Turkey  and  Egypt,  and  whose  courtesies  at  Savan- 


eenty- 
quarc, 
e  side, 
spaces 
sd  with 
flndia^ 
nent — 
Savan- 
od  is  a 
t  no*  ^*^- 
I  oi  §ut'- 

venture 
of  com- 
5  peopie 
jr  diitec- 
e  placed 
r  of  the 
rich  or 
I  oysters, 
one  fom. 
5  poorest 
lo  can  be 
The 
[habitant, 
intity  of 
of  one 
leption  to 
ley  are 
when  it 


"V. 


'  < 


'■'  \ 


im 


land  from 
louses  of 
L  extends 
Ivered  for 
)und.  A 
appoint- 
it  Savan- 


^  i  :^^! 


I»"JI 


Hi 


SAVANNAH  AND  THE  SEA  ISLANDS. 


218 


*:7^<  ■■■ 


nah  I  gratefully  remember,  declared  that  ho  often  thought  ho 
was  looking  at  Egypt  when  ho  looked  at  this  portion  of  Geor- 
gia.    There  were  the  same  climate,  the  same  atmosphere,  tho 
Nime  soil,  the  same  cultivation,  and  a  river  offering  the  same 
characteristics  as  the  Nile.     But  of  all  tho  scenery  in  and 
about  Savannah,  the  Cemetery  of  Bonaventura  is  the  most 
remarkable.    There  is  nothing  like  it  in  America,  or  perhaps 
in  the  world.     Its  melancholy  loveliness,  once  seen,  can  never 
be  forgotten.     Dull  indeed  must  be  the  imagination,  and  cold 
the  fancy  of  any  one  who  could  wander  through  its  weird  and 
fairy  avenues  without  being  deeply  impressed  with  its  solemni- 
ty and  appropriateness  for  the  last  resting-place  of  the  dead. 
One  melancholy  enthusiast,  a  clergyman,  weary  of  his  life, 
disgusted  with  the  world,  with  a  brain  weakened  by  long 
brooding  over  a  disappointed  affection,  happened  in  an  evil 
moment  to  stray  into  this  place.    He  had  often  meditated  sui- 
cide, and  the  insane  desire  took  possession  of  his  mind  with 
more  than  its  usual  intensity  as  he  lingered  in  this  solemn 
and  haunted  spot.     For  days  and  nights  he  wandered  about 
it  and  through  it,  and  at  last  determined  in  his  melancholy 
phrensy  that  to  die  for  the  satisfaction  of  being  buried  in  that 
place  would  be  the  supremest  happiness  the  world  could  of- 
fer.    He  wrote  his  last  sad  wishes  upon  a  piece  of  paper,  left 
it  upon  a  tomb,  and  leaped  into  the  Savannah  River.     His 
body  was  discovered  some  days  afterward ;  but — alas  for  the 
vanity  of  human  wishes ! — his  dying  request  was  not  com- 
plied with,  and  it  was  decided  by  the  authorities  that  he 
should  be  buried  in  the  city  of  Savannah.     So  he  died  as  he 
had  lived — in  vain. 

And  why  is  the  Cemetery  of  Bonaventura  so  eminently 
beautiful  %  Let  me  try  to  describe  it.  The  place  was  for- 
merly the  country  seat  of  an  early  settler  named  Tatnall,  one 
of  the  founders  of  the  colony  of  Georgia.  This  gentleman, 
though  he  came  to  a  forest  land  where  trees  were  considered 
a  nuisance,  admired  the  park-like  beauty  around  the  great 
country  mansions  of  the  nobility  and  gentry  in  his  native  En- 
gland, and,  while  every  one  else  in  the  colony  was  cutting 
down  trees,  made  himself  busy  in  planting  them.     Having 


'      I 


) 


W 


214 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTF  IN  AMERICA. 


i 


( ( 


I 


'•I'f.i'iiii 


.-E 


built  hiniBdf  a  house  on  the  estate  of  Bonaventura,  he  planted 
an  avenue  or  carriage-drive  leading  up  to  its  porch,  and  the 
tree  he  chose  for  the  purpose  was  the  evergreen  oak,  next  to 
the  cypress  and  the  magnolia  the  noblest  tree  in  the  Southern 
States  of  America.  In  due  time,  long  after  the  good  man's 
death,  the  trees  attained  a  commanding  height,  and  from  their 
boughs  hung  the  long,  feathery  festoons  of  the  tillandsia,  or 
Spanish  moss,  that  lends  such  melancholy  beauty  to  all  the 
Southern  landscape.  In  the  shadow  of  the  wild  wood  around 
this-  place  the  Tatnalls  are  buried ;  but  the  mansion-house, 
which  was  of  wood — as  nearly  all  the  rural  dwellings  are  in 
Georgia  and  the  Carolinas — having  taken  fire  one  Christmas 
evening,  when  a  large  party  v/ere  assembled,  and  being  utter- 
ly destroyed,  with  the  sole  exception  of  the  chimneys  and  a 
little  brick-work,  the  then  owner  took  a  dislike  to  the  place, 
and  never  rebuilt  the  dwelling.  The  estate  was  ultimately 
sold,  and  now  belongs  to  Mr.  Wiltberger,  the  proprietor  orthe 
Pulaski  House  at  Savannah,  who,  finding  the  tombstones  of 
the  Tatnalls  and  others  in  the  ground,  had  a  portion  set  aside 
for  the  purposes  of  a  public  cemetery.  Never  was  a  place 
more  beautifully  adapted  by  nature  for  such  an  object.  The 
mournful  avenue  of  live  oak,  and  the  equally  mournful  glades 
that  pierce  on  every  side  into  the  profuse  and  tangled  wilder- 
ness, are  all  hung  with  the  funereal  drapery  of  the  tillandsia. 
To  those  who  have  never  seen  this  peculiar  vegetation  it  may 
be  difficult  to  convey  an  adequate  idea  of  its  sadness  and 
loveliness.  It  looks  as  if  the  very  trees,  instinct  with  life, 
had  veiled  themselves  like  mourners  at  a  grave,  or  as  if  the 
fogs  and  vapors  from  the  marshes  had  been  solidified  by  some 
stroke  of  electricity,  and  hung  from  the  trees  in  palpable 
wreaths,  swinging  and  swaying  to  every  motion  of  the  winds. 
Not  unlike  the  effect  produced  by  the  tattered  banners  hung 
from  the  roofs  of  Gothic  cathedrals  as  trophies  of  war  in  the 
olden  time,  or  to  mark  the  last  resting-places  of  knights  and 
nobles,  is  the  effect  of  these  long  streamers  pending  from  the 
overarching  boughs  of  the  forest.  Many  of  them  are  so  long 
as  to  trail  upon  the  ground  from  a  height  of  twenty  or  thirty 
feet,  and  many  of  the  same  length,  drooping  from  the  topmost 


n.<i( 


SAVANNAH  AND  THE  SEA  ISLANDS. 


215 


lanted 
nd  the 
text  to 
uthern 
I  man's 
m  their 
isia,  or 
all  the 
around 
i-house, 
p  are  in 
aristmas 
ig  utter- 
ys  and  a 
tie  place, 
Itimaiely 
tor  of  the 
stones  of 
,  set  aside 
8  a  place 
set.    The 
ful  glades 
id  wilder- 
illandsia. 
|on  it  may 
^ness  and 
with  life, 
as  if  the 
by  some 
palpable 
:he  winds, 
[ners  hung 
ar  in  the 
ights  and 
from  the 
•e  so  long 
or  thirty 
le  topmost 


branches  of  oak  and  cypress,  dangle  in  mid  air.  What  adds 
to  the  awe  inspired  by  the  remarkable  beauty  of  this  parasitic 
plant  is  the  alleged  fact  that  wherever  it  flourishes  the  yellow 
fever  is  from  time  to  time  a  visitant.  It  grows  plentifully  on 
the  shores  of  the  Lower  Mississippi  from  Cairo  to  New  Or- 
leans, and  throughout  all  Louisiana,  Alabama,  Mississippi, 
Tennessee,  Greorgia,  and  South  Carolina.  In  North  Carolina 
it  is  not  so  common,  and  disappears  altogether  in  Yii^inia. 
In  New  Orleans  it  has  been  converted  into  an  article  of  com- 
merce, and  being  dried  and  peeled,  it  is  used  instead  of  horse- 
hair— which  in  this  condition  it  much  resembles — for  stuffing 
mattresses  and  cushions  for  chairs  and  sofas.  ^ 

As  I  had  determined  to  return  to  Charleston  by  sea,  I  glad- 
ly awaited  at  Savannah  the  return  of  the  St,  Mary's  from 
Florida.     It  was  not  until  thirty  hours  after  her  appointed 
time  that  the  little  steamer,  with  h^r  white  captain  and  her 
black  crew,  reappeared  in  the  river.    She  had  met  with  strong 
head  winds  at  sea,  and,«the  bad  weather  still  continuing,  the 
captain  determined  to  try  the  inner  instead  of  the  outer  pas- 
sage.    This  arrangement  was  in  every  way  to  my  taste,  as  it 
would  afford  me  the  opportunity  of  sailing  through  the  count- 
less and  picturesque  mazes  of  the  Sea  Islands.     These  islands 
extend  from  Charleston  downward  to  Savannah,  and  as  far 
south  as  the  great  peninsula  of  Florida,  and  are  famous  for 
the  production  of  the  fine  staple  so  well  known  and  esteemed 
in  all  the  cotton  markets  of  the  world — from  New  Orleans, 
Mobile,  and  Charleston,  to  Liverpool,  Manchester,  and  Glas- 
gow-^as  the  "  Sea  Island  cotton."     In  the  summer  this  re- 
gion is  not  habitable  by  the  whites,  but  in  the  early  spring 
there  is  neither  fog  nor  fever,  and  the  climate  is  delicious. 
Though  the  storm  raged  in  the  outer  sea,  the  weather  was 
calm,  sunny,  and  beautiful  as  the  St.  Mary's  threaded  her  way 
for  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  through  the  narrow  channels 
amid  these  low  and  fertile  islands,  some  as  large  as  the  Isle 
of  Wight  or  the  Isle  of  Man,  others  as  small  as  the  islets  of 
Venice.  ■ 

At  times  the  water-way  was  like  that  of  a  noble  river, 
broad  as  the  Mississippi,  but  without  its  currents,  and  at 


mx> 


^;»^K.' 


4 


pi 


216 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  TS  AMIsRICA. 


others  not  wider  than  the  Regent's  Canal,  or  the  New  Riyor 
at  Islington.  So  narrow  was  it  at  times  that  we  could  have 
jumped  ashore  from  either  side  of  the  deck ;  but  the  feat, 
though  possible,  and  indeed  easy,  was  not  inviting ;  for,  hiul 
any  one  been  frolicsome  enough  to  do  so,  ho  would  have  fotind 
himself  up  to  the  middle,  or  perchance  to  the  neck,  in  soft 
bog  and  swamp.  We  had  often  to  twist  and  turn  in  places 
where  it  seemed  quite  impossible  that  a  steam-boat  could  pai^H, 
and  the  negroes  had  continually  to  push  us  out  of  difilculticfl 
by  means  of  sturdy  poles  ten  or  twelve  feet  long — an  oxorciKO 
in  which  some  of  the  passengers  seemed  delighted  to  take 
part.  The  tall  rushes  and  reeds  grew  up  to  the  height  of  tlio 
deck ;  and,  had  it  been  midsummer,  we  might  have  disturlxid 
many  an  alligator  as  we  wound  our  way,  north  and  Mouth, 
east  and  west,  far  into  the  bowels  of  the  land,  and  then  out 
again  toward  the  sea,  in  this  intricate  navigation.  Twenty 
times  at  least  the  St.  Mary's  seemed  fast  aground,  and  as  6flen 
did  stalwart  negroes  launch  the  ship's  bpat  and  row  ashore, 
to  affix  a  tow-rope  to  a  stake  left  amid  the  vegetation  in  pre- 
vious voyages,  to  enable  us  to  be  manoeuvred  oA' again.  The 
whole  voyage  was  one  constant  succession  of  novelties  of  scene 
and  adventure. 

From  the  deck  we  could  look  over  a  large  expanse  of  coun- 
try, studded  with  cotton-fields,  with  the  white  mansions  of  the 
planters,  with  negro  ^^[llage8,  and  with  here  and  tliere  a  stretch 
of  pasture  land  in  which  the  cattle  were  feeding.  Amid  the 
swamp  the  palmetto,  sometimes  singly,  sometimes  in  clustem, 
raised  its  graceful  branches,  while  on  the  higher  grounds,  and 
sometimes  on  the  bank  of  the  channel,  were  clumps  of  pinc« 
and  evergreen  oaks,  all  hung  with  the  graceful  but  melancholy 
drapery  of  the  tillandsia.  At  one  turn  we  came  suddenly 
upon  a  negro  village,  and  several  little  "  darkies,"  from  tlio 
ages  of  three  to  ten,  some  entirely  and  others  partially  naked, 
who  were  upon  a  dungheap,  set  up  a  shout  of  delight  on  our 
arrival,  which  speedily  brought  forth  the  sable  elders  of  the 
place,  as  well  as  tl.>3  dogs,  to  take  a  look  at  um  ;  the  adultH 
grinning  and  showing  their  white  teeth,  the  dogs  and  tlio 
children  vying  with  each  other  who  should  make  the  most 


FROM  SOUTH  CAROLINA  TO  VIRGINIA. 


217 


RWcr 

httvo 
>  feat, 
r,  hw\ 
fo\in<l 
in  »oft 

places 
Id  panH, 
kuUicB 
jxorciw) 
to  take 
it  oftlio 
idturlicd 
d  Houth, 
then  out 

Twenty 
I  08  often 
w  OHhorc, 
)n  in  prc- 
lin.  The 
bs  of  scene 


noi.<<te  in  our  honor.  Many  of  the  planters*  houses  which  wo 
pa.s»cd  were  large  and  commodious,  and  surrounded  by  groves 
of  oak,  cedar,  and  magnolia,  giving  the  place  the  leafy  attrac- 
tions of  an  English  midsummer  all  through  the  winter. 

There  is  throughout  all  this  country  a  very  considerable 
population  engaged  in  the  cultivation  of  the  Sea  Island  cotton, 
and  the  villages  as  well  as  country  mansions  were  numerous 
as  we  passed.  Here,  for  four  or  live  months  in  the  year,  the 
planter  lives  like  a  patriarch  of  the  olden  time,  or  like  a  petty 
despotic  monarch,  surrounded  by  his  obedient  subjects,  with  a 
white  "  oikonomos,"  or  overseer,  for  his  prime  minister,  who, 
on  his  part,  is  condemned  to  endure  the  climate  the  whole 
year,  that  the  slaves  may  be  kept  in  order,  while  the  master 
himself  hurries  away  with  his  family  to  the  far  North— rto 
New  York  or  to  Newport,  and  very  often  to  London  and 
Paris — to  spend  the  abundant  revenues  of  his  cotton  crop. 
We  passed  one  considerable  town  or  city — that  of  Beaufort, 
the  capital  of  the  Sea  Islands,  and  pleasantly  as  well  as  im- 
posingly situated — and  then,  steaming  through  the  broad  chan- 
nel of  the  Whapoo,  reached  Charleston  after  a  long  but  by  no 
means  disagreeable  passage  of  forty-eight  hours. 


chapteh  XXVI. 

FROM   SOUTH   CAROLINA   TO   VIRGINIA. 

March,  1858. 
Away  again  through  the  eternal  pine  forests  for  hundreds 
of  miles  !  The  railway  was  as  straight  as  an  arrow's  flight  or 
a  mathematical  line,  and  we  had  to  travel  for  thirty  hours 
without  other  stoppages  than  an  occasional  ten  minutes  or 
quarter  of  an  hour  for  breakfast  or  dinner.  The  country  was 
unpicturesque,  the  railway  the  reverse  of  comfortable,  and 
sleep,  if  wooed,  was  difficult  to  be  won  in  "cars"  or  carriages 
where  there  was  no  support  for  the  back  or  the  head  of  the 
unhappy  traveler ;  whei-e  there  was  not  even  a  place  to  stow 
away  a  hat,  a  stick,  an  umbrella,  or  a  bag ;  and  where  about 
sixty  persons  of  all  ages  and  conditions  of  life,  including  half 

K 


f 


'    1  ■'! 


d.:    ^ 


218 


LIFE  AND   LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


J  .  *■ 


a  dozen  young  children,  and  at  least  twenty  people  who  chewed 
tobacco  and  spat,  were  closely  packed  in  an  atmosphere  de- 
prived of  all  its  moisture  and  elasticity  by  the  red  heat  of  the 
anthracite  stove  that  glowed  and  throbbed  in  the  middle  of 
this  locomotive  den.  Behind  the  stove,  on  the  side  of  the  car, 
in  large  letters,  was  the  following  inscription : 

ABB    BCQUESTED 
NOT  TO  SHT 

^  Thz  sto^ 

And  here,  as  well  as  at  any  other  point  of  his  journey,  let  a 
European,  unaccustomed  to  the  odious  practice  of  tobacco- 
chewing,  and  its  concomitant  and  still  more  odious  practice 
of  spitting,  so  disgustingly  prevalent  in  the  Southern  and 
Western  States,  and  to  a  minor  extent  in  the  Northern,  dis- 
burden himself  upon  the  subject,  and  have  done  with  it.  Be- 
fore witnessing  the  extent  and  prevalence  of  this  lilthiness,  I 
imagined  that  the  accounts  given  by  preceding  travelers  were 
exaggerations  and  caricatures,  intended  to  raise  an  ill-natured 
laugh ;  but  observation  speedily  convinced  me  that  all  I  had 
previously  read  upon  the  subject  fell  short  of  the  truth,  and 
that  it  would  be  difficult  to  exaggerate  the  extent  of  the  vice, 
and  the  callousness  with  which  it  is  regarded  even  by  people 
of  education  and  refinement.  Americans  who  have  traveled 
in  Europe  do  not  seem  annoyed  that  strangers  should  take 
notice  of  the  practice  and  be  offended  by  it ;  but  custom  so 
dulls  even  their  perception  of  its  oifensiveness  that  they  con- 
sider the  fault-finders  as  somewhat  squeamish  and  over-sen- 
sitive. Once,  at  Washington,  I  found  myself  the  centre  of  a 
group  of  members  of  Congress,  two  of  whom  were  among  the 
most  expert  and  profuse  spitters  (I  was  going  to  write  expec- 
torators,  but  the  word  is  not  strong  enough)  whom  it  was  ever 
my  fortune  to  meet  with,  when,  the  conversation  having  turn- 
ed upon  the  military  prowess  and  skill  of  several  gentlemen 
who  had  distinguished  themselves  in  the  Mexican  war,  I  was 
suddenly  asked  by  one  of  them — who  cleared  his  mouth,  for 


FROM  SOUTH  CAROLINA  TO  VIRGINIA. 


210 


swed 
5  dc- 
»f  the 
le  of 
,ecar, 


iy,let  a 
tobacco- 
practice 
em  and 
lerii,  dis- 
it.    Be- 
thiness,  I 
lers  were 
l-natured 
all  I  had 
]ruth,  and 
the  vice, 
my  people 
traveled 
lould  take 
lustom  so 
they  con- 
over-sen- 
lentre  of  a 
imong  the 
•ite  expec- 
[t  was  ever 
^ving  tum- 
tlemen 
ar,  I  was 
louth,  for 


the  purpose,  of  a  most  portentous  flood  of  tobacco-juice — who, 
in  my  opinion,  and  in  that  of  Englishmen  who  studied  Amer- 
ican politics,  was  the  greatest  general  in  the  United  States? 
The  reply  was.  General  Sm.     "  Well,"  said  the  senator,  "I 
calculate  you  are  about  right ;  and  though  you,  as  a  Britisher, 
may  say  so,  I  should  advise  you  not  to  put  the  observation 
into  print,  as  some  of  our  citizens  might  take  it  as  personal." 
On  another  occasion,  an  eminent  lawyer,  who  had  filled  some 
of  the  highest  offices  of  the  state,  a  man  to  whom  ancient  and 
modern  literature  were  equally  familiar,  who  had  studied  Eu- 
ropean as  well  as  American  politics,  whose  mind  seemed  to 
have  run  thcough  the  whole  circle  of  human  knowledge,  and 
who  could  converse  eloquently  on  any  subject,  though,  while 
he  spoke,  the  tobacco-juice  oozed  out  of  the  comers  of  his 
mouth,  and  ran  down  upon  his  shirt-front  and  waistcoat,  took 
a  lai^e  cake  of  tobacco  from  his  side-pocket,  and  courteously 
offered  me  a  chew.     The  cake,  I  should  think,  weighed  about 
half  a  pound.     I  asked  him  if  he  had  ever  calculated  how 
many  gallons  of  spit  such  a  cake  represented  ?     "  Well,"  he 
said,  putting  the  cake  back  again  into  his  pocket,  "  it  is  a  dis- 
gusting habit.     I  quite  agree  with  you.     I  have  made  several 
attempts  to  break  myself  of  it,  but  in  vain.     I  can  not  think 
or  work  without  a  chew ;  and,  although  I  know  it  injures  my 
stomach,  and  is  in  other  respects  bad  for  me,  I  am  the  slave 
of  the  habit,  and  will,  I  fear,  be  so  to  the  end  of  my  days." 
Even  in  the  presence  of  ladies  the  chewers  and  spitters  do  not 
relent ;  and  ladies  seem  almost,  if  not  quite,  as  indifferent  to 
the  practice  as  the  other  sex.     In  theatres  and  lecture-rooms 
are  constantly  to  be  seen  inscriptions  requesting  gentlemen 
not  to  spit  in  the  boxes  or  on  the  stoves ;  and  in  all  places  of 
public  resort  the  spittoon  is  an  invariable  article  of  furniture. 
Spittoons  garnish  the  marble  steps  of  the  Capitol  at  Washing- 
ton ;  spittoons  are  in  all  the  reading-rooms,  bars,  lobbies,  and 
offices  of  the  hotels ;  spittoons  in  every  railway-car ;  and  in 
the  halls  of  every  State  Legislature  which  I  visited,  the  Par- 
liamentary spittoons  seemed  to  be  as  indispensable  as  the  desks 
and  benches  of  the  members.     If  the  American  eagle  were 
represented  as  holding  in  his  or  her  claw  a  spittoon  instead  of 


p 
•  '1 


'"•  I  ■ 


p 


220 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


fci-.i 


the  thunderbolt  of  Jove,  the  change  might  not  be  graceful  or 
poetical,  but  would  certainly  not  he  inappropriate,  liut  enough 
on  tliis  subject,  which  I  would  gladly  have  omitted  to  men- 
tion if  I  had  not  hoped,  as  I  do,  that  tlie  concurrent  testimony 
of  all  travelers  will  ultimately  produce  some  eliect,  and  that, 
sooner  or  later,  gentlemen  addicted  to  this  form  of  intemper- 
ance— for  there  are  many  gentlemen  among  them — will  be 
shamed  out  of  a  habit  so  loathsome  in  itself,  and  so  prejudicial 
to  the  health,  bodily  as  well  as  mental,  of  all  who  indulge 
in  it. 

But  do  Europeans  come  into  court  with  clean  hands  when 
they  accuse  Americans  of  the  abuse  of  tobacco?  Are  not  En- 
glishmen in  some  respects  almost  as  filthy  1  And  is  it,  in  re- 
ality, more  disgusting  to  chew  tobacco,  than  it  is  to  walk  in 
the  streets,  with  or  without  a  lady — but  more  especially  with 
a  lady — smoking  either  a  cigar  or  a  pipe  in  her  presence? 
Is  it  not,  in  fact,  as  vulgar  for  any  one  to  smoke  as  it  would 
be  to  eat  in  the  street  ?  And  is  it  more  offensive  in  men  to 
chew  than  it  is  in  boys  and  youths  to  smoke  1  These  are  but 
questions  of  degree,  and  in  some  respects  the  American  chew- 
er  is  less  offensive  than  the  English  street-smoker.  The  chew- 
er  poisons  his  own  mouth,  it  is  true,  but  ho  pobons  no  one's 
else,  which  is  more  than  can  be  said  for  the  smoker,  who  pours 
his  pestilential  fumes  into  the  wholesome  atmosphere,,  which 
belongs  quite  as  much  to  his  inoffensive  fellow-mortal,  the 
non-smoker,  as  to  him,  and  which  he,  the  smoker,  has  no  le- 
gal, moral,  or  natural  right  to  contaminate,  to  the  annoyance 
or  the  injury  of  his  neighbor. 

The  first  night  brought  us  to  a  place  called  Florence, 
whence,  after  a  stoppage  of  twenty  minutes,  we  started — 
sleepy,  but  sleepless — through  the  pine  woods  once  again. 
At  morning  dawn  we  were  in  the  State  of  North  Carolina, 
and  still  amid  the  pine  woods,  stretching,  vast  and  apparently 
illimitable,  on  every  side.  Most  of  the  trees  on  our  line  of 
travel  were  tapped  for  their  precious  juice,  and  at  every  sta- 
tion were  to  be  seen  barrils  of  turpentine,  the  staple  produce 
of  North  Carolina,  waiting  for  transport  to  the  coast,  and 
thence  to  all  parts  of  the  civilized  world.     We  made  no  stay 


FROM  SOUTH  CAROLINA  TO  VIRGINIA. 


221 


111  or 
ougU 
men- 
mony 
that, 
mper- 
riU  be 
idicial 
adulge 

B  when 
lot  En- 
■,  in  re- 
walk  in 
lly  -with 
esence  % 
it  would 
i  men  to 
Q  are  but 
an  chew- 
he  chew- 
no  one's 
^ho  pours 
re,  which 
ortal,  the 
las  no  le- 
innoyance 


in  this  ancient  commonwealth,  wh?       tho  "smart,"  "go- 
ahead"  people  farther  north  have  choben  to  designate,  after 
the  well-known  personage  in  Washington  Irving's  story,  as 
the  "  Rip  Van  Winkle  State,"  to  express  thereby  their  opin- 
ion of  the  somnolent,  unprogressive  character  of  the  people. 
All  day  our  train  wheeled  through  its  forests,  and  at  night  wo 
expected  to  enjoy  the  luxury  of  a  bed  in  the  renowned  and 
beautiful  city  of  Richmond,  in  Virginia.    But  this  was  not  to 
be.     The  limit  of  our  train  was  at  the  city  of  Petersburg, 
twenty- two  miles  from  Richmond,  where  we  were  to  "  con- 
nect" with  another  that  was  to  carry  us  to  our  destination. 
But  our  train  was  two  hours  behind  its  time.     The  connect- 
ing train  had  started  to  the  appointed  minute,  and  there  was 
no  help  for  it  but  to  remain  in  Petersburg  and  make  the  best 
of  it.    And  we  made  the  best  of  it,  and  certainly  did  not  faro 
badly.    We  found  an  excellent  hotel — fish  of  names  unknown 
in  Europe,  and  most  deliciously  cooked  ;  Catawba,  both  Still 
and  Sparkling,  of  Longworth'a  best ;  and  reasonable  charges. 
Petersburg  is  the  third  city  in  Virginia  in  point  of  population 
and  importance ;   is  situated  on  the  Appomattox  River,  a 
tributary  of  the  James,  by  which  it  has  communication  with 
the  sea;  and  contains  nearly  20,000  inhabitants.     There  is 
nothing  of  interest  to  be  seen  here,  and,  if  there  were,  weary 
travelers  such  as  we,  who  had  not  slept  for  thirty  hours,  and 
who  had  to  rise  the  next  morning  at  three  o'clock,  were  not 
likely  to  start  in  the  evening  on  any  visits  of  exploration  to 
the  wonders  of  nature  or  the  curiosities  of  art.    So  to  bed  we 
went,  and  had  half  a  night's  rest,  being  rewarded  for  the  short 
allowance  of  sleep  by  the  full  enjoyment  of  a  more  gorgeously 
beautiful  sunrise  than  often  falls  to  the  lot  of  any  one  to  be. 
hold.     We  crossed  at  early  mom  the  railway-bridge  over  the 
sparkling  and  foaming  rapids  of  the  James  River,  and  entered 
Richmond,  the  capital  of  the  Old  Dominion,  and  the  metrop- 
olis of  the  F.  F.V.s. 

The  reader  may  ask  what  is  the  Old  Dominion  ?  and  who 
or  what  are  the  F.  F.  V.s.  ?  The  Old  Dominion  is  the  name 
affectionately  given  to  Virginia  by  its  inhabitants,  proud  of 
its  ancient  settlement  in  the  days  of  Queen  Elizabeth ;  and 


^! 


222 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IK  AMEBIOA. 


im 


the  F.  F.  V.8.  arc  the  First  Families  of  Virginia.  "Who  is 
your  master  ?"  said  I  to  a  negro-driver  in  Washington.  "He 
is  an  F.  F.  V.,"  was  the  reply.  "And  are  you  working  out 
your  freedom  t"  "  Yes,"  he  replied.  "  And  when  you  have 
got  it,  what  will  you  do  ?"  "  Stay  in  Washington,  and  have 
all  my  earnings  to  myself." 

Richmond  is  picturesquely  seated  on  a  hill,  overlooking  the 
windings  of  the  James  River,  and  is  said  to  have  received 
its  name  from  its  resemblance  to  Richmond  in  Surrey.  IJut 
this  resemblance  is  difficult  to  discover;  for  the  landscape 
seen  from  Richmond,  in  Virginia,  is  almost  bare  of  trees,  while 
that  from  our  English  Richmond  is  a  paradise  of  verdure  and 
beauty.  The  Capitol,  or  Parliament  House,  stands  on  the 
crown  of  the  hill,  and,  seen  from  a  distahce,  gives  the  city  an 
imposing  and  imperial  air,  as  if  of  a  city  de3tincd  to  command ; 
but  at  nearer  approach  the  illusion  vanishes,  and  the  Capitol 
dwindles  into  an  insignificant-looking  edifice,  without  either 
beauty  or  proportion.  Lest  the  Virginians  should  object  to 
the  criticism  of  a  stranger  on  the  principal  edifice  of  their  state, 
I  quote  from  a  local  han(?-book  the  following  description: 
"  The  Capitol  is  a  Graeco-A.iierican  building,  having  a  portico 
at  one  end,  consisting  of  a  colonnade,  entablature,  and  pedi- 
ment, whose  apicial  angle  is  rather  too  acute.  There  are  win- 
dows on  all  sides,  and  doors  in  the  two  longer  sides,  which  are 
reached  by  high  and  unsightly  double  flights  of  steps  placed 
sidewise,  under  which  are  other  doors  leading  to  the  base- 
ment. The  view  from  the  portico  is  extensive,  various,  and 
beautiful." 

The  "  General  Assembly" — such  is  the  name  given  to  the 
Parliament  of  this  Commonwealth — was  in  session  on  our 
arrival,  and  the  speakers  of  both  the  upper  and  lower  House 
did  me  the  honor  of  admitting  me  to  what  is  called  "  the  privi- 
lege of  the  floor."  I  had  thus  an  opportunity  of  listening  to 
the  debates,  and  of  observing  the  easy,  decorous,  and  expedi- 
tious manner  in  which  the  public  business  is  transacted.  But 
far  more  attractive  was  the  library,  containing  the  original 
draught  of  the  Constitution  of  Virginia  by  George  Mason — a 
man  of  whom  Virginia  is,  and  ought  to  be  proud ;  and  the 


FROM  SOUTH  CAROLINA    lO  YIW     HA. 


t2S 


"He 

g  out 
have 
have 

ig  the 
ceived 
Hut 
dscape 
,  while 
ire  and 
on  the 
city  an 
amand; 
Capitol 
t  either 
ibject  to 
>ir  fttate, 
ription : 
i  portico 
nd  pedi- 
are  win- 
hich  are 
1)8  placed 
le  base- 
ious,  and 


lower  hall  of  the  Capitol,  containing  the  celebrated  at  a«  of 
Washington — most  illutttrious  of  Virginians  as  ofAnuncans 
— by  Houdon,  a  yrcnch  artist.  The  statue,  of  the  sixe  ul  .il'o, 
is  represented  in  the  costume  of  an  American  general,  worn 
by  the  hero,  and  bears  about  it  all  the  unmistakable  but  unde- 
finable  signs  of  being  a  true  portrait.  Stuart's  portrait  of 
Washington — taken  in  his  later  years,  when  he  wore  false 
teeth,  badly  made,  that  gave  an  undue  and  unnatural  promi- 
nence to  his  lower  jaw — is  the  one  by  which  ho  is  generally 
known.  It  is  ditlicuU  to  look  upon  that  portrait,  even  if  igno- 
rant of  the  circumstances  under  which  it  was  taken,  without 
forming  a  hope  that  it  is  not  a  true  resemblance.  PIoudon*s 
statue  is  very  different ;  and  my  first  impression  on  beholding 
it  was  an  instinctive  belief  that  this  was  the  real  Washington 
— this  the  identical  patriot — this  the  man  who  founded  what 
is  destined  to  be  the  greatest  empire  in  the  world.  I  was  not 
a  little  gratified  to  learn,  some  days  afterward,  that  when  La- 
fayette visited  Richmond,  a  few  years  before  his  death,  he  af- 
firmed this  to  be  the  only  likeness  of  Washington  that  did 
him  justice.  "  Thus  he  stood,"  he  said,  "  and  thus  he  looked. 
This  IS  Washington  I  This  is  my  friend !  This  is  the  very 
man!" 

The  statue  stands  on  a  pedestal  four  feet  and  a  half  high ; 
and  no  pedestal  ought  to  be  much  higher,  if  it  be  desired  that 
the  countenance  of  the  person  honored  or  apotheosized  should 
be  seen  by  the  public,  to  excite  whose  emulation  it  is  erected. 
The  pedestal  bears  the  following  honest,  simple,  and  eloquent 
inscription : 

"  The  General  Assembly  of  the  Commonwealth  of  Virginia  have 
caused  this  statue  to  be  erected  as  a  monument  of  affection  and  grati- 
tude to 

GEORGE  WASHINGTON, 

who,  uniting  to  the  endowments  of  the  Hero  the  virtues  of  the  Patriot, 
and  exerting  both  in  establishing  the  Liberties  of  his  Countrj,  has  ren- 
dered his  name  dear  to  his  Fellow-citizens,  and  given  the  world  an  im- 
mortal example  of  true  Glory.     Done  in  the  -  ear  of 

CHRIST 

one  thousand  seven  hundred  and  eighty-eight;  and  in  the  year  of  the 
Commonwealth  the  Twelfth." 


224 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


Tho  citizens  of  Virginia  had,  a  few  monthn  before  my  visit, 
just  inaugurutcd,  un  the  hill  of  the  Cnpitol,  another  and  a 
larger  statue  of  Washington,  executed  by  tho  eminent  and  late- 
ly deceased  sculptor  Crawford.  It  is  a  noble  equestrian  statue 
of  bronze  gilt,  but,  to  my  mind,  not  equal  as  a  work  of  art  to 
the  pre-existing  statue  of  lloudon,  and  somewhat  injured  in  its 
general  effect  by  the  undue  height  and  disproportionate  nar- 
rowness of  the  pedestal  on  which  it  is  elevated  eighteen  feet  into 
the  air.  Around  the  base  are  to  be  ranged  six  other  statues  of 
illustrious  Virginians,  only  two  of  which  are  as  yet  completed 
— one  of  Jefferson,  and  tho  other  of  Patrick  Henry.  Both  of 
these  are  infinitely  superior  as  works  of  art  to  any  statues 
which  London  can  boast.  But  as  this  of  itself  would  be  but 
poor  praise,  it  may  be  added  that  these  two  figures  arc  so  dig- 
nified, so  truthful,  and  so  nearly  perfect  as  to  cause  a  feeling 
of  regret  that  they  should  serve  as  accessories  and  adjuncts  to 
a  larger  statue  instead  of  standing  by  themselves. 

Richmond  contains  a  population  of  about  30,000  souls,  of 
■whom  nearly  10,000  are  slaves.  It  carries  on  a  very  large 
export  trade  in  wheat  and  flour,  has  extensive  flour-mills,  and 
is  noted  as  tho  great  depot  of  tho  well-known  tobacco  for 
which  the  State  of  Virginia  is  celebrated,  and  in  the  growth 
and  manufacture  of  which  it  principally  employs  its  slave 
population. 


iii'ii 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

FROM  EICUMOND  TO  WASHINGTON. 

March  24,  1858. 

Weary  of  the  rail  and  all  its  nuisances — mental,  physical, 
and  olfactory — it  was  with  pleasure,  after  a  ride  of  seventy- 
five  miles  from  the  pleasant  capital  of  Virginia,  that  I  found 
myself  at  Aquia  Creek,  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac,  and  took 
a  place  on  board  the  mail-steamer  bound  up  the  river  for  the 
City  of  Washington. 

The  Potomac  at  this  place  is  a  noble  stream,  apparently 
from  two  to  three  miles  in  width,  and  far  more  picturesque 


FROM  RICnMOND  TO  WASHINGTON. 


225 


VtBlt, 

ind  a 

ilfttC- 

itatue 

art  to 

Units 

e  nar- 

et  into 

ues  of 

ipleted 

loth  of 

Btatues 
be  but 
80  dig- 

i  feeling 

uncta  to 

50Ul8,  of 

sry  large 

lills,  and 

lacco  for 

growth 

its  slave 


4, 1858. 
physical, 

seventy- 
,t  I  found 

and  took 
3r  for  the 

Ipparently 
Icturesque 


than  any  other  river  I  had  woen  in  North  Amcrii*a,  with  the 
solo  exeoptionH  of  the  Hudson  and  the  St.  Lawrence.  Tho 
wooded  heights  and  undulating  hilitt  on  the  euMtorn  and  we»t- 
em  shores  slept  in  a  haze  of  golden  Hunlight.  'Die  broad 
bosom  of  tho  river,  unruflled  by  the  nlightoi^t  breath  of  wind, 
reflected  tho  Inndtionpe  like  a  mirror ;  and  numerous  flocks  of 
canvas-lmck  ducks — vagrants  from  the  luxurinnt  marshes  of 
Chesapeake  Bay,  where  they  breed  in  countless  myriads — 
floated  on  the  smooth  water  like  tiny  argosies,  liut  Balti- 
more is  the  city  par  excellence  of  tho  canvas-back  duck — one 
of  tho  greatest  delicacies  of  America ;  and  what  is  to  be  said 
upon  that  subject  shall  tlicrcforc  be  reserved  for  its  proper 
locality. 

In  natural  beauty  the  Potomac  is  rich,  but  there  is  no  place 
of  any  historic  or  even  legendary  interest  on  its  banks  be- 
tween Aquia  Creek  and  the  capital,  except  one  ;  but  to  every 
traveler,  whatever  his  nation,  that  Oiie  is  the  most  interesting 
spot  in  the  United  States  But  interesting  is  too  weak  a  word 
to  express  the  feeling  with  which  it  is  regarded  by  all  the  cit- 
izens of  the  Great  Republic,  young  or  old,  male  or  female.  It 
is  their  Mecca  and  their  Jerusalem — hallowed  ground,  conse- 
crated to  all  hearts  by  tho  remembrance  of  their  great  hero 
and  patriot — the  only  one  whom  all  Americans  consent  to 
honor  and  revere,  and  whom  to  disparage,  even  by  a  breath, 
is,  in  their  estimation,  a  crime  only  second  to  blasphemy  and 
parricide.  Mount  Vernon,  the  homo  and  tomb  of  George 
Washington,  is  the  sacred  spot  of  the  North  American  conti- 
nent whither  pilgrims  repair,  and  on  passing  which  every 
steam-boat  solemnly  tolls  a  bell,  and  every  passenger  uncovers 
his  head,  in  expression  of  the  national  reverence.  Our  boat 
did  not  stop  to  allow  us  to  visit  the  place — a  circumstance 
which  I  have  since  much  regretted,  as  I  never  had  another  op- 
portunity ;  but  in  the  summer  season,  when  travelers  are  more 
numerous,  sufficient  time  is  usually  allowed  for  the  purpose 
on  the  downward  trip  from  Washington.  But  the  bell  on  the 
upper  deck  tolled  its  requiem  for  the  departed,  and  captain, 
crew,  and  passengers  took  off  their  hats  and  remained  uncov- 
ered until  Mount  Vernon  was  left  behind,  and  the  hoipe  and 

K2 


J::n 


V.I  i 


.^' 


226 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


grave  of  the  hero  were  hidden  from  sight  among  their  embow- 
ering verdure.  '  '  ' '  </ 
The  Americans,  as  a  people,  are  accused  of  being  utterly 
without  reverence.  A  recent  French  tourist,  more  famous  for 
music  than  for  philosophy,  declared  them  to  be  "  une  nation 
railleuse  et  moqueuse  ;''*  while  others  have  asserted  that  they 
love  and  respect  nothing  but  the  "almighty  dollar."  The 
deep  homage  paid  to  the  memory  of  Washington  is  sufficient 
to  exonerate  the  Americans  from  such  a  sweeping  censure. 
They  certainly  treat  their  living  statesmen  with  little  respect. 
They  set  up  a  president  only  to  attack  and  vilify  him,  just  as 
some  African  savages  make  an  idol  that  they  may  kick  and 
cuff  while  they  pretend  to  pray  to  it ;  and  the  abuse  which 
they  at  times  lavish  upon  some  of  the  ablest,  noblest,  and 
purest-minded  of  their  statesmen  is  such  as  to  afford  some 
grounds  for  the  belief  that  veneration  is  not  the  organ  which 
is  most  largely  developed  in  the  American  brain.  But  this 
view  of  the  matter  is  a  superficial  one.  There  are  no  living 
men  to  whom  they  owe  loyalty,  or  toward  whom  they  can  feel 
it ;  for  it  is  they  who  make,  and  who,  if  need  be,  can  unmake 
presidents,  governors,  and  members  of  Congress.  It  is  they 
who  are  the  only  source  and  the  sole  agents  of  power.  They 
are  so  courted  and  flattered  by  knaves,  at  all  sorts  of  elections, 
for  all  sorts  of  offices,  from  that  of  president  down  to  that  of 
door-keeper  in  a  court  of  justice,  and  so  besmeared  with  fair 
words,  which  mean  nothing,  by  intriguers  who  put  their 
tongues  in  their  cheeks  almost  before  their  fine  speeches  are 
ended,  that  they  value  their  public  men  at  exceedingly  little. 
Perhaps  they  treat  their  great  authors,  painters,  and  sculp- 
tors with  more  regard ;  for  literary  men  and  artists  do  not,  as 
such,  canvass  for  votes,  or  stand  upon  platforms  to  flatter  a 
mob,  but  rely  solely  upon  their  genius,  to  be  appreciated  or 
not,  as  the  people  please.  In  this  respect  the  universal  homage 
rendered  to  the  venerable  Washington  Irving,  and  the  affec- 
tion with  which  the  mention  of  his  name  is  every  where  re- 
ceived ;  the  pride  with  which  all  people  of  every  party  speak 
of  such  writers  as  Prescott,  the  able  historian  and  accomplisli- 
ed  gentleman,  and  of  many  others  who  have  made  American 


>r 


FROM   RICHMOND  TO  WASHINGTON. 


227 


)0W- 

terly 
IS  for 
lation 
they       • 
The 
Relent 
nsure. 
jspect. 
just  as 
ck  and 
which 
St,  and 
d  some 
1  which 
3ut  this 
10  living 
can  feel 
unmake 
^  is  they 
They 
lections, 
)  that  of 
with  fair 
)ut  their 
aches  are 
gly  little, 
id  sculp- 
io  not,  as 
flatter  a 
sciated  or 
il  homage 
the  affec- 
where  re- 
irty  speak 
jcomplish- 
American 


literature  illustrious  in  our  day,  is  a  proof  that,  beyond  the 
sphere  of  politics  and  the  bitter  question  of  slavery,  the  Amer- 
icans can  render  ample  justice  to  their  living  greatness.  Yet, 
if  ungrateful  to  men  in  public  life,  and  especially  to  politicians, 
they  make  amends  to  the  memory  of  the  illustrious  dead,  and 
prove  abundantly  that  they  have  both  loyalty  and  veneration 
in  their  nature  by  pouring  them  around  the  name  of  Wash- 
ington, and  in  a  minor  degree  around  those  of  other  early 
heroes  and  founders  of  the  republic,  such  as  Franklin,  Hamil- 
ton, Jefferson,  Mason,  Adams,  Patrick  Henry,  and,  in  more 
recent  times,  those  of  Clay,  Calhoun,  Andrew  Jackson,  and 
Quincy  Adams.  And,  as  regards  living  statesmen,  before  wo 
accuse  the  Americans  of  want  of  veneration  for  authority,  let 
us  ask  ourselves  who  can  be  better  abused  than  a  prime  min- 
ister of  England,  or  a  leader  of  the  House  of  Commons  1 

Mr.  J.  A.  Washington,  the  present  representative  of  the 
family  of  Washington,  and  proprietor  of  the  Mount  Vernon 
estate,  to  whom  I  had  the  honor  of  an  introduction,  at  the 
hospitable  table  of  Mr.  G.  P.  R.  James,  the  British  consul  at 
Richmond,  had  incurred  considerable  odium  at  the  time  of  my 
visit — odium  which,  whether  deserved  or  not,  was  more  than 
sufficient  to  show  that  the  loyalty  of  Americans  was  not  ren- 
dered to  a  mere  name,  but  was  jealously  reserved  for  individual 
services  and  glory.  A  lady  of  Richmond,  Miss  Pamela  Cun- 
ningham, weak  in  body,  but  strong  in  mind,  bedridden,  but 
able  to  wield  an  eloquent  and  persuasive  pen,  entertained, 
with  many  others,  the  idea  that  the  tomb  of  Washington  ought 
to  belong,  not  to  any  individual  proprietor,  even  though  his 
name  were  Washington,  but  to  the  American  people.  Miss 
Cunningham  may  not,  perhaps,  have  been  more  strongly  im- 
bued with  this  idea  than  others;  but  it  is  certain  that  she 
gave  more  effect  to  her  feelings  than  any  of  the  persons  who 
may  have  shared  the  conviction  before  she  gave  it  life  and 
palpability.  From  her  sick-bed  she  wrote  and  dictated  let- 
ters to  the  newspapers  to  stir  up  the  sentiment  and  enthusiasm 
of  the  country.  Her  appeals — earnest,  simple,  and  eloquent 
— answered  their  purpose.  She  summoned  the  ladies  of 
America  to  unite  with  her,  as  statesmanship  and  Congress 


il 


228 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


m 


fM 


would  do  nothing  to  aid  thcra,  and  to  form  an  association  for 
tho  purchase  of  Mount  Vernon  by  the  voluntary  subscriptions 
of  the  American  people.  In  the  course  of  a  few  months  she 
found  herself  burdened  with  an  amount  of  correspondence  to 
which  that  of  a  Secretary  of  State  was  a  trifle.  The  ladies 
responded  cordially  to  the  appeal  from  every  part  of  tlie 
Union,  and  gave  not  only  their  names,  but  their  time  and 
talents  to  the  work.  Madame  Le  Vert,  of  Mobile,  wrote  a 
book  of  her  travels  in  Europe,  and  handed  over  the  profits  to 
the  Mount  Vernon  Association.  Other  ladies  painted  pic- 
tures, composed  music,  established  fancy  bazars,  got  up  balls 
and  concerts,  and  all  for  the  purchase  of  Washington's  tomb. 
Others,  again,  who  objected  to  such  aids  to  a  good  cause,  and 
who  had  influence,  marital  or  filial,  over  popular  preachers, 
enlisted  them  in  the  subscription,  until  there  was  scarcely  a 
church  or  chapel  in  the  land  of  which  the  congregations 
had  not  subscribed  to  the  fund.  And  last,  but  by  no  means 
least,  "Mr.  Everett,  the  most  eloquent  of  living  Americans,  was 
brought  into  the  service.  He  was  persuaded  by  some  of  these 
fair  enthusiasts — whether  by  Miss  Cunningham,  by  Mrs.  Le 
Vert,  or  by  Mrs.  Ritchie  (so  well  known  and  greatly  admired 
in  London  as  !Mrs.  Anna  Cora  Mowatt),  or  whether  by  these 
three  graces  in  combination,  it  is  difficult  to  say — ^but,  by  the 
happy  thought  of  some  insinuating  fair  one,  he  was  induced 
to  travel  from  city  to  city  throughout  tho  Union,  and  to  de- 
liver his  celebrated  oration  on  the  "Life  and  Character  of 
Washington,"  for  the  benefit  of  the  fund.  By  his  exertions 
alone  upward  of  £5000  sterling  had  at  an  early  period  of  the 
year  1858  been  secured  toward  the  purchase  of  Mount  Ver- 
non, and  there  was  every  probability  that  by  these  and  other 
agencies  the  whole  sum  requisite  would  be  obtained  Avithin 
one  year,  or  at  most  two,  and  Washington'^  tomb,  with  a  few 
acres  of  land  adjoining,  handed  over  to  the  perpetual  guardian- 
ship of  tho  ladies  of  America.  At  the  commencement  of  their 
patriotic  agitation  they  were  incorporated  for  the  purpose  by 
solemn  Act  of  the  Legislature  of  the  Commonwealth  of  Vir- 
ginia, confirmed  by  the  still  more  solemn  fiat  of  the  General 
Congress  of  Washington. 


■::rlii: 


FROM  RICHMOND  TO  WASHINGTON. 


229 


►n  for 
ptions 
IS  she 
iice  to 
ladies 
of  the 
le  and 
rote  a 
oiits  to 
Bd  pic- 
ip  balls 
8  tomb, 
ise,  and 
sacliers, 
arcely  a 
egations 

0  means 
ans,  was 

1  of  these 
Mrs.  Le 

1  admired 
by  these 
:,  by  the 
induced 
id  to  de- 
cacter  of 
exertions 
Lod  of  the 
3unt  Ver- 
and  other 
ed  within 
nth.  a  few 
guardian- 
nt  of  their 
lurpose  by 
th  of  Vir- 
e  General 


And  here  it  will  perhaps  bo  asked  why  and  whence  the 
odium  thrown  upon  Mr.  J.  A.  Washington  ?  The  charge 
made  against  him  chiefly  by  the  press,  was,  that  he  had  asked 
too  much  of  the  ladies  of  America,  and  that  he  had  "  traffick- 
ed in  the  bones  of  his  illustrious  relative."  But  in  a  country 
where,  above  all  others, 

"The  value  of  a  thing  * 

Is  just  as  much  as  it  will  bring," 

and  where  the  pursuit  of  wealth  is  carried  on  with  an  eager- 
ness elsewhere  unparalleled,  the  charge  appears  ungracious, 
if  not  unnatural.      The  representative  of  the  Washingtons 
is  fur  from  wealthy;   he  has  a  large  family,  principally  of 
daughters ;  in  the  opinion  of  impartial  persons,  he  did  not  ask 
a  cent  more  for  the  acres  than  they  would  be  likely  to  sell  for 
by  private  contract  to  any  one  who  desired  to  possess  tht>m, 
and  less,  perhaps,  than  they  would  fetch  by  public  sale ;  and, 
moreover,  the  committee  of  the  Ladies'  Association  have  pub- 
Ucly  declared,  with  their  names  appended  to  the  declaration, 
that  nothing  could  be  more  straightforward,  manly,  honest, 
and  liberal  than  the  conduct  of  Mr.  Washington  in  the  whole 
course  of  the  transaction.     It  is  to  be  presumed,  judging  from 
the  temper  displayed  in  the  discussion,  that  nothing  would 
have  satisfied  the  objectors  to  Mr.  Washington  except  his  free 
donation  of  the  property ;  and  that  any  sum  he  might  have 
asked  would  have  been  carped  and  caviled  at  by  people  de- 
termined to  be  displeased.     Surely  it  was  unreasonable  to  ex- 
pect from  a  man,  even  though  he  bore  a  great  name,  that  he 
should  have  sacrificed  his  interests  to  the  manes  of  his  illus- 
trious predecessor,  and  done  in  his  own  person  what  the  state 
ought  lo  have  done?     If  honor  were  to  be  paid  to  the  memo- 
ry of  Washington  by  the  purchase  of  his  burial-place,  and  its 
dedit:.tion  forever  to  the  reverence  of  the  American  people, 
the  central  government,  representing  all  the  states  of  the 
Union,  or  even  the  government  of  the  Commonwealth  of  Vir- 
ginia, should  have  drawn  upon  the  public  purse  for  the  funds 
necessary  to  purchase  the  property.     As  the  purchase  of  the 
nation,  both  the  tribute  would  be  greater  than  if  it  proceeded 
from  the  pocket  of  any  individual,  whether  his  name  were 


K-;    * 


t 


1   ;■ 


280 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


i 


im 


m 

'mm 


I 


"Washington  or  any  other  less  renowned.  If  the  rich  nation 
declined  to  act  in  the  matter — a  nation  so  rich  that  it  does 
not  know  what  to  do  with  the  public  money — why  Hhould 
Mr.  Washington,  who  is  not  rich,  be  blamed  for  not  taking 
upon  himself  a  task  that  was  not  his  by  any  natural  or  na- 
tional compulsion,  and  which,  moreover,  he  could  not  under- 
take without  injustice  to  those  who  were  nearest  and  dcarcnt 
to  him,  and  who,  if  he  had  reduced  them  to  penury,  might  have 
asked  in  vain  for  a  dollar  from  the  national  bounty  ? 

Under  all  the  circumstances,  it  is  more  creditable  to  the 
American  character  that  the  purchase  should  bo  effected  by 
the  voluntary  effort  of  the  people  than  by  any  other  meatis. 
The  ladies  of  America  have  done  a  noble  deed  in  a  graceful 
and  gracious  manner,  and  nobody  is  the  poorer  for  it— except, 
perhaps.  Miss  Cunningham,  who  has  well-nigh  exhauHtod  the 
energies  of  a  frame  that  was  never  powerful  by  the  labors  con- 
sequent upon  so  great  an  organization.  But  her  name  upon 
the  records  on  the  Mount  Vernon  Association,  and  on  the  book 
that  will,  doubtless,  lie  upon  Washington's  tomb,  setting  forth 
how  it  became  the  property  of  the  public,  will  be  to  her  a  suf- 
ficient reward.  And  that,  at  least,  will  bo  hers  as  long  as 
America  shall  revere  the  name  of  Washington.* 

*  In  reference  to  this  subject,  the  following  memorandum  bos  been 
received  from  Mr.  Everett : 

*'It  is  intimated  that  I  was  enlisted  in  the  Mount  Vernon  cnuie  by 
the  ladies  named  in  your  letter.  This  is  inexact.  I  have  been  most 
proud  and  happy  to  co-operate  with  those  very  cstiroablo  ladioi  in  thii 
excellent  cause ;  but  I  commenced  delivering  my  •  Washington  Lec- 
tures' at  Richmond  for  the  benefit  of  the  Mount  Vornon  Fund  as  a 
volunteer,  without  the  suggestion  of  any  man  or  wf'tnan.  I  mado  the 
offer  to  do  so  before  I  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  Miss  Cunningham 
or  Mrs.  Ritchie,  and  without  any  previous  communication  on  tho  sub- 
ject with  either  of  them,  or  any  other  human  being." 


.til'^ii^-'i-  - 


SOCIAL  -iND  POLITICAL  ASPECTS  OP  SLAVERY.  231 


nntlon 
t  docH 
should 
taking 
or  na- 
under- 
dcarcHt 
\\i  havo 

to  the 
ctcd  by 

meann. 
graceful 
-except, 
Htod  the 
lors  con- 
mo  upon 
the  book 
ing  forth 
tor  a  «ui- 
I  long  M 

i  hoi  been 

CAuao  by 

oon  most 

CI  in  thin 

gton  Lcc- 

und  aa  a 

made  tho 

inningbam 

n  tho  tub* 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

THE   SOCIAL    AND    POUTICAL   ASPECTS   OF    SLAVERY. 

Washington,  March  25,  1859. 

No  traveler  in  the  United  States,  who  desires  to  record  his 
free,  unbiased  opinions,  can  give  the  go-by  to  the  question  of 
slavery.  That  question  has  long  been  a  sore  in  the  bosom  of 
the  Great  Republic,  but  has  not  pressed  at  any  time  for  im- 
mediate solution.  It  has  been  a  difficult  and  complicated,  as 
well  as  an  exasperating  subject.  It  has  been  the  battle-ground 
of  parties — the  touchstone  of  political  life — the  theme  of  the 
senate,  the  platform,  the  pulpit,  and  the  press  ;  but  it  has  in- 
volved too  many  personal  and  national  interests,  and  been  of 
too  vital  an  importance  to  the  integrity  of  the  Union  to  bo 
driven  even  by  the  most  zealous  friends  of  negro  freedom  to 
such  a  point  as  to  force  a  deliverance.  If,  on  the  one  hand, 
there  were  slavery  to  be  abolished,  there  was,  upon  the  other, 
the  union  of  the  thirty-two  republics  which  lend  a  star  each 
to  the  banner  of  the  states  to  be  riiaintained  inviolate.  Many 
abolitionists  have  been  prepared  for  the  Jiat  justitia,  but  not 
for  the  mat  caelum ;  and  the  few  able  and  earnest  men  who 
have  avowed  themselves  ready  to  confront  all  consequences, 
however  ominous  or  fatal,  have  been  in  such  a  minority  as  to 
render  their  action  hopeless  for  the  present,  and  to  adjourn  it 
into  the  indefinite  future,  where  all  hopes  grow,  and  where  all 
theories  gradually  transform  themselves  into  facts. 

In  the  District  of  Columbia  slavery  is  not  offensive  in  its 
outward  manifestations ;  and  "Washington  contains  a  large 
number  of  free  negroes.  But  the  fact  that  slavery  is  permit- 
ted to  exist  within  the  district  is  made  a  particular  grievance 
by  the  abolitionists  of  the  free  North.  "  You  have  slavery  iu 
you  own  states,"  they  say  to  the  people  of  the  slave-holding 
South,  "  and,  unfortunately,  we  have  not  the  power  to  inter- 
fere with  you;  but  we  know  of  no  right  that  you  have  to  in- 


„  1« 


4 


I 


it': 


til"' 

m 


X  iWHfPlJiii. 


232 


LIFE  AND   LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


troducc  the  objectionable  and  criminal  system  into  Columbia 
and  the  City  of  Washington,  which  belong  to  the  whole  Union, 
and  not  to  the  South,  and  to  us  quite  as  much  as  to  you." 
The  South  has  replied  by  insisting  on  as  much  right  to  main- 
tain slavery  as  the  North  has  to  abolish  it ;  that  possession  is 
nine  points  of  the  law,  and  that,  being  in  possession,  they  are 
determined  to  remain  so.  Several  attempts  have  been  made 
by  the  abolition  party  to  carry  a  law  through  Congress  to  free 
the  national  capital  and  its  small  surrounding  district  from  the 
"  domestic  institution"  of  the  South,  but  hitherto  in  vain. 
The  fact,  however,  suggests  the  opportunity  to  say  a  few  words 
on  the  social  and  political  aspects  of  this  gi'eat  question^  not 
simply  as  affecting  the  national  metropolis,  but  as  affecting 
both  the  white  and  the  black  races  in  every  part  of  the  Union. 
It  was  intended  by  the  original  framers  of  the  Declaration 
of  Independence  that  all  the  United  States  should  be  ft-ee. 
"Wiser  at  this  time  than  the  monarchy,  whose  yoke  they  so  gal- 
lantly threw  off,  they  thought  to  repudiate  slavery,  and  all 
that  appertained  to  it.  It  was  their  wish  to  set  an  example 
to  the  world.  They  desired  to  proclaim  that  "  a  man  was  a 
man  for  a'  that,"  and  that  the  accident  of  his  color  made  no 
difference  in  his  rights  or  his  responsibilities.  But  a  timid 
and  unwise  conservatism,  even  at  this  early  stage  of  American 
history,  was  permitted  to  prevail,  and  because  slavery  was,  it 
was  allowed  to  be.  At  a  later  period,  the  parent  monarchy, 
impelled  by  the  irresistible  impetus  communicated  to  its  ac- 
tions by  the  people,  abolished  slavery  in  all  its  fonns  and 
phases.  The  republic  profiting,  or  fancying  that  it  profited, 
by  the  evil  thing,  and  not  only  tolei  iting,  but  loving  it,  be- 
cause it  was  established,  refused  to  follow  the  noble  example. 
Thus  it  sowed  dragons'  teeth  over  more  than  half  of  the  fair- 
est dominion  that  ever  in  all  recorded  history  fell  to  the  lot  of 
an  energetic  and  intelligent  race.  The  result  is  what  we  now 
see,  and  what  all  the  friends  of  human  liberty  deplore.  Tlie 
dragons'  teeth  have  grown  up  into  giants.  Frankenstein  has 
made  his  monster,  and  the  monster  puts  poison  into  the  cup 
of  prosperity,  and  keeps  his  master  in  constant  terror  of  a  day 
of  retribution.    Slavery,  that  might  have  been  easily  eradi- 


SOCIAL  AND  POLITICAL  ASPECTS  OP  SLAVERY.   283 


umbia 

Jnion, 

I  you." 
main- 

mon  is 

liey  are 

n.  made 
to  free 

irom  the 

n  vain. 

AT  words 

ion,  not 

affecting 

e  Union. 

jlaration 
be  free. 

jy  80  gal- 

,  and  all 
example 

an  was  a 

1  made  no 

t  a  timid 

/American 
;ry  n'cis,  it 
ftonarchy, 
to  its  ac- 
orms  and 
profited, 
tng  it,  be- 
example. 
[f  the  fair- 
Ithe  lot  of 
^t  we  now 
ore.    Tlie 
istein  has 
to  the  cup 
|r  of  a  day 
sUy  eradi- 


ttitcd  half  n  century  npo,  has  asaumc<l  »\u'h  formidable  dimen- 
ftions  that  it  is  hard  to  pay  whicli  is  the  more  difficult  thinj^ 
to  do— to  put  up  with  it,  or  to  abolish  it ;  and  which  course  is 
fraught  with  the  most  danger — to  give  the  slaves  their  free- 
dom, or  to  allow  them  to  increase  and  multiply  in  bondage. 
But  the  history  of  such  model  states  as  Massachusetts — one 
of  the  most  respectable  and  wise  communities  in  the  world — 
and,  indeed,  of  all  the  New  England  States,  together  with  New 
York  and  Pennsylvania,  and  the  commonwealths  of  the  "West, 
which  are  gradually  spreading  themselves  to  the  bases  of  the 
Rocky  ^Mountains,  is  a  proof  not  only  of  the  far-sighted  phi- 
lanthropy, but  of  the  worldly  >visdom  of  the  men  who,  at  the 
earliest  period  of  American  history,  washed  their  hands  of  the 
shame  and  guilt  of  slavery.  The  free  states  are  not  only  the 
most  populous,  the  most  wealthy,  and  the  most  energetic  in 
the  Union  ;  but  by  the  activity  of  their  intellect,  the  exuber- 
ance of  their  literature,  and  the  general  vigor — public  and  so- 
cial, as  well  as  private  and  commercial — of  their  citizens,  they 
give  the  law  and  the  tone  to  the  whole  of  the  Union.  Massa- 
chusetts, Vermont,  New  Hampshire,  Rhode  Island,  Connecti- 
cut, and  Maine — small  in  extent,  and,  with  the  exception  of 
Maine,  as  finely  cultivated  and  almost  as  densely  peopled  as 
that  Old  England  from  whose  shores  their  early  founders  emi- 
grated, in  disgust  with  the  political  and  religious  tyranny  of 
their  time — ^are  the  great  hives  that  supply  the  fruitful  and  all 
but  illimitable  West. 

The  emigration  from  Ireland,  from  Germany,  and  from  Nor- 
way, gTcat  as  it  is,  would  not  keep  the  great  West  in  health- 
ful and  progressive  motion,  were  it  not  for  the  Yankees  of 
New  England.  It  is  these  who  drift  off  from  their  parent  es- 
tablishments in  these  elderly  states — for  Massachusetts,  as  a 
commonwealth,  is  older  than  many  European  kingdoms,  and 
not  much  more  juvenile  than  Prussia — and  who  found  mills, 
banks,  stores,  newspapers,  churches,  chapels,  and  universities 
in  the  wildernesses  of  the  Upper  Mississippi  and  Missouri. 
Every  now  and  then,  when  their  numbers  have  sufficiently  in- 
creased by  European  and  other  immigration,  they  "  thunder 
at  the  gates  of  the  capital,"  and  claim  admission  for  the  new 


(:  •  r 


m 


284 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


i'«il!,i' 


i  I 


territory  whicli  they  have  wrested  from  desolation  or  from 
the  Indians  as  a  sovereign  state  and  component  part  of  the 
greatest  confederation  in  the  world.  The  non-existence  of 
slavery  within  their  bounds  is  one  of  the  causes  of  their  un- 
paralleled growth  and  prosperity.  The  poor  white  man — the 
ragged,  half-starved  Irishman — with  nothing  to  offer  in  ex- 
change for  his  food,  lodging,  and  raiment  but  the  unskilled  la- 
bor of  his  brawny  arras ;  the  frugal  German  and  Norwegian, 
desirous  to  gain  a  few  dollars  by  hard  manual  labor,  and  to 
invest  the  results  in  the  purchase  of  an  acre  or  two  of  the  vir- 
gin earth — will  not  settle  in  largo  numbers  in  the  slavehold- 
ing  states.  In  the  South  they  would  enter  into  competition 
with  the  slave,  and  the  slave,  as  far  as  mere  labor  goes,  is 
master  of  the  position.  In  the  ruder  operations  of  the  field 
and  plantation,  where  no  particular  intelligence  is  required, 
and  where  a  horse  is  almost  as  good  a  laborer  as  a  ftian,  lie  is 
cheaper  than  the  white  race ;  and  the  white  man,  with  higher 
aspirations  than  to  be  always  a  hewer  of  wood  and  a  drawer 
of  water,  naturally  betakes  himself  to  regions  where  negro  la- 
bor does  not  come  into  competition  with  his  own,  and  where 
he  will  not  be  kept  by  capitalists,  either  of  land  or  money,  at 
a  lower  level  than  he  believes  to  be  his  by  right  of  his  superior 
mind. 

The  free  states  are  progressive,  and,  to  use  the  regular 
Yankee  word,  "go-a-head-ative."  They  see  far  before  them. 
They  do  not  stand  continually  upon  the  ancient  ways.  Like 
Englishmen  and  Scotchmen,  with  whom  they  have  many 
points  of  resemblance,  they  are  "  look-a-head-ativc"  as  well  as 
"  go-a-head-ative,"  if  I  may  imitate  themselves  so  far  as  to 
coin  an  ugly  but  expressive  word  for  the  occaelon  ;  and,  see- 
ing that  the  whole  continent  requires  to  be  settled  and  cut  up 
into  commonwealths ;  thinking  little  of  distance  and  of  time, 
and  scarcely  considering  either  as  impediments  to  any  work 
which  they  may  undertake,  or  to  any  design  on  the  accom- 
plishment of  which  they  have  set  their  hearts ;  knowing  no 
superiors  to  themselves,  politically  or  socially,  and  being  fired 
with  the  ambition  not  simply  to  become  rich,  but  to  be  emi- 
nent and  powerful,  they  manufacture  states  for  the  Union  as 


SOCIAL  AND  POLITICAL  ASPECTS  OP  SLAVERY.   235 


r  from 

of  tho 
jnco  of 
»eir  un- 
an — the 
:  in  ex- 
alled  la- 
rwegian, 
r,  and  to 
F  the  vir- 
iavehold- 
n  petition 
r  goes,  is 
'  the  field 
required, 
nan,  he  is 
ith  higher 

a  drawer 
!  negro  la- 
ind  where 

money,  at 
is  superior 

AC  regular 
fore  them, 
lys.     Like 
ave  many 
as  well  as 
)  far  as  to 
and,  sce- 
and  cut  up 
id  of  time, 
any  work 
;he  accom- 
nowing  no 
being  fired 
to  be  emi- 
le  Union  as 


well  as  fortunes  for  themselves.     They  give  their  nnmo8  to 
towns,  cities,  and  counties,  and  do,  in  this  advanced  age  of  tho 
world,  and  by  a  ditterent  process,  what  the  early  Saxons  and 
Danes  did  tw  vc  hundred  years  ago  for  the  British  Isles.    Tho 
people  of"  tho  free  states  have  an  inimcnse  work  yet  before 
them.     Maine  is  the  only  one  of  the  six  New  England  States 
that  exists  to  any  considerable  extent  in  the  condition  of  tho 
primeval  wilderness.      The  other  five  are  finished.     Their 
roads  arc  made,  the  tree-stumps  have  been  long  ago  removed, 
the  original  forest  has  disappeared,  except  where  it  has  been 
allowed  to  remain,  here  and  there,  in  small  patches,  for  its 
beauty  and  amenity.     The  log  hut  is  not  often  to  be  seen ; 
but  the  neat,  elegant,  comfortable  white  house,  the  church,  tho 
chapel,  the  bank,  are  every  where  to  be  met  with.     There  is 
no  trace  of  squalor  or  of  misery,  but  over  the  whole  land  there 
is  an  air  of  refinement  and  of  high  civilization.     But  the  other 
free  states  have  not  yet  an-ived  at  the  same  high  culture. 
Large  portions  of  the  "  Empire  State"  of  New  York  are  still 
in  a  state  of  nature,  and,  though  the  Red  Man  has  long  ago 
disappeared,  the  bear  and  the  wolf  are  in  possession  of  districts 
not  a  day's  journey  by  rail  from  the  mighty  city  of  Manhat- 
tan, and  almost  within  sound  of  the  paddle  of  the  monster 
steam-boats  that  ply  upon  the  Hudson.     With  capabilities  of 
soil  and  climate,  and  with  natural  resources  more  than  sufii- 
cient  to  feed  a  population  of  ten  or  twelve  millions,  the  State 
of  New  York,  though  constantly  invaded  by  the  Saxon,  Celtic, 
and  Scandinavian  immigration,  has  a  resident  population  of 
less  than  four  and  a  half  millions.     Though  the  most  populous 
state  in  the  Union,  and  absolutely  much  richer,  both  in  wealth 
and  in  men,  than  England  was  in  the  days  when  Henry  VHI. 
first  began  to  make  England  a  power  in  the  world,  and  almost 
as  populous  as  when  Cromwell  first  made  his  country  to  be 
feared  and  respected  throughout  Europe,  still.  New  York  is 
but  half  peopled.     Pennsylvania,  another  large  and  flourishing 
commonwealth,  with  agricultural  and  mineral  wealth  all  but 
inexhaustible  in  its  soil,  is  not  more  populous  than  Scotland  ; 
and  Ohio,  one  of  the  noblest  of  all  the  free  states,  and  able  to 
support  as  large  a  population  as  England,  numbers  upon  its 


l'"'^ 


fl 


286 


LIFE  AND   LIBERTY   IX  AMERICA. 


fnutful  bofom  little  more  than  two  millionfi  of  people,  or  a 
million  less  than  London  and  its  circumjacent  boroughs. 

Indiana — which  an  intelligent  old  Scotchman,  who  hail  cul- 
tivated his  farm  in  it  for  upward  of  ten  years,  declared  to  mo, 
with  an  expresf»ion  of  sorrow  in  his  rough,  honest  countenance, 
to  bo  an  unwholesome  place  for  a  man  of  northeni  blood  *o 
live  in — might  contain  and  feed  the  whole  population  now  ex- 
isting in  the  United  States,  and  be  all  the  better  for  the  bur- 
den, does  not  number  above  a  million  and  a  half  of  people.  I 
asked  the  Scotchman  what  was  his  objection  to  Indiana? 
"  Objection,"  he  replied,  with  a  strong  Highland  accent ;  "ob- 
jection, did  ye  sayt  There  is  no  objection  but  to  its  over- 
fruitfulness.  The  soil  is  so  rich,  the  climate  so  delicious,  that 
the  farmer  has  no  adequate  inducement  to  work.  The  earth 
produces  its  fruits  too  readily.  The  original  curse  presses  too 
lightly.  The  sweat  of  a  man's  brow  is  to  be  read  of,  but  not 
to  be  experienced  here ;  and  the  very  air  is  balmy  and  sleepy. 
Idleness  is  the  affliction  that  we  have  to  struggle  against ;  and 
idleness  leads  to  drinking,  and  to  quarrelsomeness,  and  all 
other  evil.  Satan  is  to  be  fought  with  hard  work,  and  that 
will  conquer  him  better  than  preaching.  Na,  na,"  he  added, 
shaking  his  head,  "  if  I  had  my  life  to  live  over  again,  and 
know  what  I  know  now,  I  would  settle  in  a  ruder  soil  and  in 
a  colder  climate.  Men  whose  ancestors  are  from  the  cold 
North — the  wholesome  North,  I  say — require  frost  to  bring 
out  their  virtues.  Heat  is  fatal  to  the  true  Scotchman,  and, 
for  that  matter,  to  the  true  Englishman  also.  Men  of  our 
blood  thrive  upon  difficulties.  We  grow  rich  and  fat  upon 
toil  and  obstruction  ;  but  herc,  in  Indiana,  Illinois,  and  away 
to  the  West  as  far  as  you  can  go,  man  gains  his  bread  too 
easily  to  remain  virtuous.  This  is  a  matter,"  he  continued, 
"which  people  do  not  sufficiently  consider.  The  Southern 
and  Middle  States  will  in  time  deteriorate  for  these  reasons, 
but  the  North — the  North — that  will  be  the  country.  And 
as  for  Canada,  no  one  can  describe,  without  being  accused  of 
extravagance,  the  greatness  and  the  glory  of  which  it  may 
be  made  capable."  In  this  respect,  if  my  Highland  friend  was 
right — which  I  firmly  believe  he  was — ^Wisconsin,  Iowa,  Kan- 


SOCIAL  AND   POUTICAL  ASPECTS  OF  SLAVERY.  237 


Ic,  or  ft 

[ia»l  cul- 

1  to  me, 

tcnancc, 

blood    0 

now  cx- 

the  bur- 

joplc.    I 

Indmna*! 

nt;  "ob- 
its over- 

ious,  that 

rhe  earth 

iresses  too 

)f,  but  not 

nd  sleepy. 

ainst ;  and 

IS,  and  all 

,  and  that 
he  added, 

ngain,  and 

3oil  and  in 
(1  the  cold 
t  to  bring 
iman,  and, 
[en  of  our 
d  fat  upon 
and  away 
bread  too 
continued, 
e  Southern 
se  reasons, 
,try.    And 
accused  of 
ich  it  may 
friend  was 
Iowa,  Kan- 


1 


nafl,  and  the  largo  territories  of  Ncbnvikn,  Oregon,  and  Culum- 
biu,  hirgo  enough  to  be  nuulo  into  tifty  conunonwcalthH  of  the 
extent  of  Miuisuchu.sett^,  may  ^huro  with  Cuiuuhi  the  advan- 
tages of  a  c'liinati;  that  makes  men  hardy,  enterprising,  and 
strong.  It  certainly  Hceuis  to  have  been  of  »<unc  elfcct  in 
stimulating  the  cncrgic^i  of  the  **  Yankee^i,"  and  iu  making 
them,  all  things  considered,  the  sharpest,  smartest,  and  most 
eminent  people  iu  tlio  Union — a  i)eoplo  littlo  luvcd,  perhaps, 
but  veiy  much  respected. 

In  the  Southern  States,  partly,  perhaps,  from  the  iniiucnco 
of  the  climate,  but  more  probably  in  a  still  greater  degree  from 
the  operation  of  slavery  upon  the  life,  character,  and  feeling 
of  the  whites,  there  is  nothing  like  the  same  social,  commer- 
cial, and  literary  energy  that  exists  in  the  North.  The  con- 
trast between  these  two  sections  of  the  Union  is  in  this  respect 
most  remarkable.  Between  Massachusetts  and  South  Caro- 
lina, between  Vermont  and  Arkan8r.s,  between  Connecticut  and 
Alabama,  tl\ere  exists  almost  as  great  a  difference  in  every 
thing,  except  language  and  the  style  of  dress  and  architecture, 
as  there  does  between  Scotland  and  Portugal,  England  and 
Naples,  Wales  and  the  Ionian  Islands.  The  cities  in  the  free 
"  Far  West"  double,  treble,  and  quadruple  their  population  in 
twenty,  sometimes  in  ten  years.  The  cities  of  the  slave  states, 
and  the  slave  states  themselves,  cither  remain  stationaiy  or 
increase  disproportionately.  In  the  free  states  all  is  bustle 
and  activity ;  in  the  slave  states  there  is  elegant  and  drowsy 
stagnation.  The  railways  in  the  North  are  well  conducted. 
Populous  towns,  villages,  and  manufactories  swarm  and  glitter 
along  the  line ;  but  in  the  South  the  railways  are  for  the  most 
part  ill-served  and  ill-regulated.  The  land  is  imperfectly  cul- 
tivated, and  the  primeval  forest  is  more  extensive  than  the 
farms  and  plantations.  The  great  rivers  Missouri  and  Missis- 
sippi run  for  nearly  two  thousand  miles  through  a  compara- 
tive wilderness ;  the  reclaimed  land  on  either  side  occupies 
but  a  very  narrow  belt  and  border  of  the  illimitable  dominion 
that  man  has  yet  to  rescue  from  the  wild  animals,  and  from 
the  super-exuberant  forest  and  the  deadly  swamp.  Even  in 
Virginia,  ancient  enough  to  have  been  called  by  the  same 


-i   :■ 


1  '■  i 


'  T$m- 


li 


h    K 


iwi 


238 


:ri 


liir-';: 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


nnmo  "when  tlio  empire  now  known  n«  ]<uflf*ia  wiw  called  Mus- 
covy, and  wIkmicc  the  wwamp  and  the  wilderncf!*  have  lonpf 
Mincc  diMap|HMu-cd,  there  Is  un  air  ornon-progreH»ivcnc»»«,  if  not 
decay  and  desolation. 

Tlie  traveler  from  New  England  and  tlio  other  free  states 
no  sooner  Dcnetrates  into  the  8lavc-land  than  lio  sees  nil 
around  him  the  proofs  that  plavcry  is  onmipresent ;  not  in  the 
mere  api)caranco  of  negroes  at  cvciy  turn  and  in  all  places, 
for  they  arc  to  be  found  every  where  in  America,  but  in  the 
slovenly  cultivation,  the  want  of  drainage,  the  absence  of 
towns  and  villages  in  the  rural  districts,  and  the  paucity  of 
population  even  in  the  largest  cities.  Competition — the  very 
soul  of  progress — is  scarcely  to  be  found.  Where  it  exists  at 
all  it  is  only  among  the  retail  tradesmen.  Thought  is  not 
free.  You  may  talk  of  the  dissolution  of  the  Union  as  desira- 
ble and  probable,  abuse  the  president  and  his  ministers,  speak 
ill  of  Congress  collectively  and  individually,  be  profane  or  im- 
moral in  your  speech  or  life,  but  you  must  not  say  a  word 
against  the  sanctity  of  the  "  Domestic  Institution."  Kome 
itself,  with  its  Index  J'Jrjmrgatoi'ius,  docs  Aot  act  with  an  effect 
more  blighting  and  deadly  upon  intellectual  activity  than  the 
South  does  when  it  forbids  the  expression  of  opinion  on  this 
subject.  No  doubt  it  Avould  be  dangerous  to  allow  of  free 
discussion ;  as  dangerous  as  it  would  be  in  Kome  to  allmv 
Protestant  divines  to  dispute  publicly  with  priests  and  cardi- 
nals on  the  vital  truths  of  Christianity,  or  the  comparative 
merits  of  Luther  and  Pope  Hildebrand.  Slavery  being  ar\  ad- 
mitted fact  and  an  established  institution,  it  is  not  to  be  sup- 
posed that  those  who  are  educated  in  the  belief  that  they  profit 
by  it  can  do  otherwifie  than  forbid,  within  their  own  jurisdic- 
tion, the  calling  of  it  in  question,  either  by  zealous  and  malig- 
nant philanthropists  among  themselves,  or  by  interlopers  from 
New  or  Old  England,  but  the  fact  remains  that  thought  is  not 
free.  Consequently,  the  wings  of  the  Angel  of  Knowledge 
are  clipped,  so  that  he  can  not  soar  into  the  empyrean  or  sit 
upon  tlie  clouds.  Literature,  which  can  not  attain  its  full 
development  under  any  system  of  restriction  or  impediment 
whatsoever,  whether  it  be  theological,  political,  or  social,  at- 


BOCIAIi   AND   POLITICAL   ASPECTS   OK  8LAVKHY.    289 


Ucd  Mus- 
Imvc  long 
ic«t»,  if  not 

free  Btatp« 
;o  pees  nil 
not  in  llio 
all  pluccs, 
but  in  the 
absence  of 
paucity  of 
, — the  very 
it  exists  nt 
uglit  is  not 
)n  as  desira- 
isters,  speak 
ofane  or  im- 
pay  a  word 
on."     Kome 
ith  an  effect 
ity  tlmn  tlic 
nion  on  this 
illow  of  free 
,roe  to  alloAV 
Its  antl  cavdi- 
comparatnc 
being  an  ad- 
it to  be  sup- 
X  they  profit 
iwn  jurisdic- 
is  and  malig- 
iriopers  from 
lought  is  not 
Knowledge 
>yrean  ov  sit 
:tain  its  full 
impediment 

»r  social,  at- 


tninfl  but  n  stunted  nnd  iinpcrfort  growth.     It  \own  itn  mont 
gencruuH  in.'«pinitiun,  the  Hcnso  of  absolute   liberty.      It  bi>- 
coincs  conventional  instead  of  natural.     It  '^givos  up  to  party 
what  was  meant  for  nmnkiiid  ;"  and,  as  a  necessary  conse- 
quence of  its  thraUlom,  finds  it  impossible  to  compete  with 
the  universal  literature  which  knows  no  buch  restrictions,  and 
appeals  to  the  wider  audience  of  all  humanity.     The  slave 
states  have  produced  some  excellent  lawyers,  some  admirable 
orators,  and  some  consummate  politicians  and  statesmen,  but 
they  have  produced  no  great  poet,  no  great  novelist,  no  great 
historian,  no  great  philosopher  or  metaphysician  ;  nay,  as  far 
as  my  knowledge  extends,  thoy  have  not  brought  forth  even 
one  great  or  eminent  preacher.     They  have  produced  a  few 
pleasant  and  fanciful  rhymers  and  versifiers,  both  male  and 
female,  and  one  or  two  novelists  and  essayists  of  some  ability, 
but  no  writer  in  any  walk  or  department  of  literature  whom 
the  most  adulatory  partisanship  or  local  preference  can  con- 
scientiously compare  with  such  names  as  Bryant,  Longfellow, 
"Whittier,  Plolmcs,  and  Lowell  in  poetry ;  such  historians  as 
Prescott,  Bancroft,  and  Motley ;  such  novelists  as  Washington 
Irving  and  Hawthorne ;  or  such  a  philosopher  as  Emerson — 
all  of  whom  are  Northern,  and  the  greater  number  New  En- 
gland men  or  Yankees.    The  leading  spirits  in  the  slave  states 
are  ;i    are  of  tho  deficiency  without  being  aware  of  the  cause, 
and  can  not  as  yet  see  that  there  arc  many  things  which  can 
be  oUained  without  liberty ;  but  that  a  great,  and  wholesome, 
and  fructifying  literature,  which  can  speak  trumpet-tongued 
to  all  mankind,  and  move  the  universal  heart  of  nations,  is 
not  among  the  number. 

One  characteristic  of  both  tho  slave  states  and  the  free, 
which  has  been  partially  notice  d  by  all  travelers,  though  few, 
if  any,  have  attempted  to  account  for  it  on  philosophical  prin- 
ciples, is  the  intensely  aristocratic  sentiment,  or,  it  may  bo 
called,  instinct  of  the  native-born  Americans,  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon,  and  generally  of  the  white  race.  It  was  the  eminent 
statesman  and  orator,  John  C.  Calhoun,  who  first  enunciated 
the  dogma,  which  has,  since  his  time,  been  openly  accepted 
by  the  whole  South,  and  more  tacitly  and  partially  by  the 


240 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


% 


North,  that  there  is  not  such  a  thing  as  a  democratic  repub- 
lic ;  that  there  never  was  such  a  thing  in  ancient  or  modern 
times ;  and  that  there  must,  of  necessity,  be  an  aristocracy  of 
some  kind  or  other  to  keep  the  frame-work  of  society  together, 
under  a  form  of  government  so  delicate  and  so  complicated  as 
a  republic.  That  there  may  be  a  monarchy  and  a  despotism 
without  an  aristocracy  is  proved  by  Asiatic  as  well  as  by  Eu- 
ropean experience ;  and  we  need  not  travel  forty  miles  east- 
ward from  the  English  coast  to  find  a  striking  proof  of  it ; 
but  Mr.  Calhoun  held  a  strictly  democratic  republic  to  be  im- 
possible, and  appealed  to  Greece  and  Kome,  to  Venice  and 
Genoa,  for  corroboration.  He  declared  that  the  only  possible 
aristocracy  in  the  United  States  was  the  aristocracy  of  color 
and  race.  He  may,  to  some  extent,  have  undervalued  or  ig- 
nored the  aristocracy  of  wealth  and  genius,  which  always,  in 
every  society,  whatever  may  be  its  form  of  government,  assert 
and  maintain  their  own  claims  to  pre-eminency ;  but  there 
can  be  no  doubt  that,  as  regards  the  aristocracy  of  color, 
avowed  or  unavowed,  he  was  perfectly  right  in  the  fact.  As 
regards  the  political  conclusions  which  he  drew  from  it,  opin- 
ions will  probably  differ.  The  North,  which  will  not  tolerate 
slavery,  shows  its  participation  in  this  aristocratic  notion  by 
refusing  to  tolerate  the  social  equality  of  the  "  nigger."  "Wc 
shall  not  make  the  black  man  a  slave ;  we  shall  not  buy  him 
or  sell  him ;  but  we  shall  not  associate  with  him.  He  shall 
be  free  to  live,  and  to  thrive  if  he  can,  and  to  pay  taxes  and 
perform  duties  ;  but  he  shall  not  be  free  to  dine  and  drink  at 
our  board — to  share  with  us  the  deliberations  of  the  jury-box 
— to  sit  upon  the  seat  of  judgment,  however  capable  he  may 
be — to  plead  in  our  courts — to  represent  us  in  the  Legislature 
— to  attend  us  at  the  bed  of  sickness  and  pain — to  mingle 
with  us  in  the  concert-room,  the  lecture-room,  the  theatre,  or 
the  church,  or  to  marry  with  our  daughters.  We  are  of  an- 
other race,  and  he  is  inferior.  Let  ^im  know  his  place,  and 
keep  it."  This  is  the  prevalent  feeling,  if  not  the  language 
of  the  free  North.  A  negro  must  not  ride  in  the  public  om- 
nibuses nor  in  the  railway  cars;  he  must  not,  however 
wealthy,  sit  in  the  boxes  or  in  the  pit  of  a  theatre ;  and  if  he 


SOCIAL  AND  POLITICAL  ASPECTS  OP  SLAVERY.  241 


ic  repub- 
r  modern 
ocracy  of 
'  together, 
>Ucated  as 
despotism 
as  by  Eu- 
miles  east- 
roof  of  it; 
c  to  be  im- 
kTenice  and 
[Ay  possible 
i,cy  of  color 
ilued  or  ig- 
i  always,  in 
ment,  assert 
;  but  there 
cy  of  color, 
le  fact.    As 
rom  it,  opin- 
not  tolerate 
|ic  notion  by 
ger."    "We 
[not  buy  him 
He  shall 
ly  taxes  and 
ind  drink  at 
:he  jury-box 
ble  he  may 
Legislature 
— to  mingle 
le  theatre,  or 
[e  are  of  an- 
lS  place,  and 
he  language 
public  om- 
|ot,  however 
;  and  if  he 


desires  to  go  to  church,  he  must  worship  with  those  of  his 
own  color,  and  not  presume  to  taint  tlie  atmosphere  of  the 
pure  whites  by  the  odors  that  exhale  from  his  impurcr  epider- 
mis* The  whites  in  the  North  object  to  a  n^ro  not  alone  for 
moral  and  political,  but  for  physical  reasons.  They  state  that 
he  smells,  and  that  it  is  almost  as  offensive  to  come  near  him 
as  it  would  be  to  fondle  a  skunk.  The  words  of  a  pretended 
hymn  —  made  for  the  negroes,  but  not  by  one  of  them,  al- 
though it  is  sometimes  asserted  that  the  author  had  a  dark 
skin — arc  often  quoted  to  those  who  are  incredulous  as  to  the 
odors  that  exhale  from  the  black  man : 

"  De  Lord  He  lub  de  nigger  well, 
He  know  de  nigger  by  de  smell ; 
And  when  de  nigger  children  cry, 
De  Lord  lie  gib  'cm  'possum  pic." 

I  attended  a  negro  church,  and  heard  a  negro  preacher  at 
Richmond,  in  Virginia ;  and,  though  I  have  as  sensitive  a  nose 
as  most  people,  and  n  more  sensitive  one  than  many,  I  was 
quite  unconscious  of  any  unpleasant  effluvium,  or  of  any  efflu- 
vium at  all,  proceeding  from  the  persons  of  the  seven  or  eight 
hundred  black  men  and  women  there  assembled  to  worship 
their  Creator.  I  mentioned  the  fact  to  the  Virginian  gentle- 
man who  accompanied  me.  He  replied  that  it  was  quite  true 
that  there  was  at  that  time  no  smell,  "  but  then,"  said  he, 
"  the  month  is  March.  In  June  or  July  the  odor  would  bo 
perfectly  intolerable,  and  I,  for  one,  should  not  have  ventured 
to  have  done  myself  the  honor  of  accompanying  you."  But, 
whatever  may  be  the  fact  as  to  the  physical  discomfort  said  to 
be  produced  by  the  odors  of  the  black  men  on  the  olfactory 
nerves  of  the  whites,  it  is  evident  that  in  the  South,  where,  if 
any  where,  this  peculiar  unpleasantness  would  be  more  likely 
to  be  ofiensively  demonstrative  than  in  colder  climates,  there 
is  no  such  repugnance  to  the  persons  of  the  black  population 
as  there  is  in  the  North.  In  the  South,  the  slave-owner  not 
only  cohabits  with  the  more  youthful  and  beautiful  of  his  fe- 
male slaves,  but  seems  to  have  no  objection  whatever  to  the 
close  proximity  of  any  negro,  young  or  old,  male  or  female ; 
though  the  Northern  men,  who  talk  so  much  of  liberty,  and 

L 


^A  V 


m 


'    ^M^^. 


0     '' 


ti ' 


242 


LIFE  AND   LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


Mi    ' 


of  the  political  equality  of  all  men,  turn  up  their  scornful  noses 
at  the  slightest  pos.sibility  of  contact  with  an  African.  Negro 
women  are  not  only  the  favorite  and  most  fondly-trusted  nurses 
of  white  children,  but  often,  and,  indeed,  generally,  entertain 
for  the  infants  of  their  masters  and  mistresses,  whom  ihiij 
have  reared  and  tended  in  their  helplessness,  a  life-long  and 
most  devoted  affection.  They  inspire  the  same  feelings  in  the 
bosoms  of  their  young  charges.  Black  women  nurse  the  little 
white  girl  in  her  babyhood — wash  her,  dress  her,  and  adorn 
her — take  her  to  school  in  her  girlhood — and  share  in  all  the 
joys  and  sorrows  of  her  youth.  They  are,  besides,  the  hon- 
ored, though  humble  confidants  of  their  wedded  life  and  ma- 
turity, and  would  scorn  to  accept  of  a  freedom  that  would  sep- 
arate them  from  the  objects  of  this  disinterested  and  ungrudg- 
ing affection.  In  the  South,  the  negro  may  ride  in  the  omni- 
bus without  offense ;  his  proximity  to  the  white  creates  nei- 
ther alarm  nor  disgust ;  and  the  faithtul  slave,  looked  upon  as 
a  friend,  receives  the  familiar  and  affectionate  title  of  "  uncle" 
or  "aunt,"  as  sex  may  dictate.  If  the  master  or  mistress  be 
young,  and  the  "uncle"  or  "aunt"  old,  the  negroes  exercise 
the  right  of  advice,  authority,  and  control  in  eveiy  thing  that 
relates  to  personal  comfort  and  domestic  ease ;  and  the  supe- 
rior race  is  gratified  by  the  control,  and  the  interest  which  it 
presupposes.  If  the  Northern  states  and  the  Northern  people 
would  only  show  half  or  a  quarter  as  much  social  kindness  to 
the  negro  as  is  shown  in  the  South,  the  question  of  negro 
slavery  would  be  deprived  of  one  of  its  greatest  difficulties. 
But,  while  Northern  men  talk  of  the  political  rights  of  the 
negro — while  they  oppress  and  degrade  him  socially,  although 
they  may  neither  buy  nor  sell  him — their  anti-slavery  speeches, 
books,  and  resolutions  sa^or  of  hypocrisy  and  false  pretense. 
More  than  this,  they  harden  the  hearts  of  the  slave-owners, 
who  can  see  through  a  false  pretense  quite  as  readily  as  the 
Yankees,  and  tend  to  deprive  the  question  of  the  abolition  of 
slavery  of  the  gi*ace,  the  force,  and  the  impetus  that  are  de- 
rived from  an  uncompromising  and  thoroughly  sincere  con- 
viction. 

Another  proof  of  the  aristocratic  feeling  which  pervades 


giiir' 


SOCIAL   AND   POLITICAL  ASPECTS  OP  SLAVERY.   243 


noses 
Negro 
QurseA 
tertain 
n  vboy 
ng  and 
J  in  the 
[le  little 
1  aiom 
i  all  the 
he  hon- 
and  ma- 
)uld  sep- 
angrudg- 
he  omni- 
jatcs  nei- 
1  upon  as 
f «  uncle" 
listress  b« 
s  exercise 
•hing  that 
the  supe- 
Avhich  it 
sn  people 
[indness  to 
of  negro 
iifficulties. 
Ihts  of  the 
j,  although 
speeches, 
pretense, 
e-owners, 
lily  as  the 
volition  of 
tt  are  de- 
icere  con- 


the  while  democracy  of  the  United  States  is  the  repugnance 
which  native-born  Americans  alniosi  universally  entertain  to 
domestic  service.     As  is  well  known,  a  domestic  servant  of 
American  birth,  and  without  negro  blood  in  his  or  her  veins, 
who  condescends  to  help  the  mistress  or  master  of  a  household 
in  making  the  beds,  milking  the  cows,  cooking  the  dinner, 
grooming  the  horse,  or  driving  the  carriage,  is  not  a  servant, 
but  a  "  help."     "  Help  wanted,"  is  the  common  heading  of 
advertisements  in  the  North,  where  servants  arc  required.     A 
notive  American  of  Anglo-Saxon  lineage  thinks  himself  bom 
to  lead  and  to  rule,  and  scorns  to  be  considered  a  "  servant," 
or  even  to  tolerate  the  name.     Let  negroes  be  servants,  and, 
if  not  negroes,  let  Irishmen  fill  the  place ;  but  for  an  Ameri- 
can, an  Englishman,  or  a  Scotchman  to  be  a  servant  or  a  wait- 
er is  derogatory.     Such  people  consider  themselves  of  superior 
breed  and  blood.    They  are  the  aristocracy  of  the  New  World ; 
and  if  poverty  fall  upon  one  of  this  class,  as  it  may  do  upon 
many  a  noble-minded  fellow,  and  compel  him  to  tend  sheep, 
wait  in  a  shop,  or,  worse  than  all,  to  stand  behind  a  chair  at 
table,  he  is  a  help,  not  a  servant.    But  the  negro  is  not  a  help ; 
he  is  emphatically  a  servant.     And  the  Irishman  is  seldom 
long  in  America  before  he  too  begins  to  assert  the  supremacy 
of  his  white  blood,  and  to  come  out  of  what  he  considers  the 
degrading  ranks  of  "  service."     The  negroes,  both  free  and 
slaves,  have  generally  a  great  dislike  to  the  Irish,  whom  they 
were  the  first  to  call  "  white  niggers."     A  very  poor  white 
man — such  as  an  Irishman  generally  is  when  he  arrives  in 
America,  and  struggles  hard  to  compete  with  the  negro  for 
the  lowest  kinds  of  occupation — is  looked  upon  with  pity  and 
hate  by  Sambo.     "A  white  Buckra"  is  the  most  opprobrious 
epithet  that  a  negro  can  make  use  of;  for,  in  his  eyes,  wealth, 
authority,  power,  and  white  blood  should  always  be  found  to- 
gether.    The  Irish  women  fall  willingly  at  first  into  domestic 
service,  but  the  public  opinion  around  them  soon  indoctrin- 
ates them  with  the  aristocratic  idea  that  black  men  and  wom- 
en are  the  only  proper  servants ;  that  white  men  ought  to 
trade  and  cultivate  farms,  and  that  white  women  are  their 
proper  helpmates,  and  should  scorn  to  serve,  save  in  their 


€ 


n 


244 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


'■m 


"'<;■:  '<! . 


ill 


a 


own  IiouscholdH,  and  in  behalf  of  their  own  hutbandi  and 
children.  ,     -r  <      i 

But  to  return  to  slavery,  which  is,  in  reality,  far  more  of  a 
white  man's  than  of  a  black  man's  question,  and  of  which  the 
aristocratic  tendency,  as  regards  the  white,  is  but  one  feather 
out  of  the  multifarious  plumage  of  the  subject-— it  is  well  to 
consider  what  effect  it  has  upon  the  whole  policy  of  the  United 
States  among  men,  both  of  the  North  and  Soutli,  who  care  no 
more  for  the  negro,  as  a  n^ro,  than  they  do  for  tlicir  horse  or 
cow,  but  who  use  him,  or  abuse  him,  as  suits  tho  higher  polit- 
ical  purpose  which  sways  their  actions.  And  here  wo  come 
to  the  very  core  of  the  political  differences  which  sopamto  the 
free  from  tiie  slave  states  of  the  Union.  These  differences  are 
many  and  serious,  and  are.  besides,  embarrassed  and  exasper- 
ated by  numerous  complications  of  interest  and  policy  quite 
unconnected  with  slavery.  Free  America  is  ultra-protection- 
ist, and  Slave  America  is  strongly  in  favor  of  tho  widest  free- 
dom of  trade.  The  free  states  are  alarmed  at  tho  incroaso  of 
British  manufactures,  while  the  slave  states  arc  not  only  not 
alarmed,  but  gratified,  and  desire  to  profit  by  British  industry 
to  the  fullest  possible  extent,  in  the  cheapening  of  clothes  for 
themselves  and  their  slaves,  and  of  all  articles  of  domestic  use 
and  luxury,  which  Great  Britain  can  furnish  better  and  more 
cheaply  than  the  manufacturers  of  the  North.  But  this  in  the 
least  of  their  differences.  The  unfortunate  provision  in  tho 
Constitution  which  allows  a  slaveholder  to  possess  votes  for 
the  House  of  Representatives — not  one  vote  simply  in  his  in- 
dividual right  as  a  free  white  man,  but  several  votes  in  pro- 
portion to  the  number  of  the  black  population— makes  a 
Southern  white  uf  more  integral  political  importance  than  tho 
Northern.  He  is  a  heavier  weight  in  the  political  scale,  and, 
individually,  is  of  more  power  and  conseqrienco  than  ony  or- 
dinary white  man  can  be,  unless  the  other  add  to  his  personal 
vote  the  influence  always  derivable  from  eloquence  and  genius 
in  swaying  the  opinions  of  his  fellow-men.  Tho  struggle  be- 
tween the  North  and  South,  of  which  tho  negro  is  made  the 
pretext,  is,  as  all  the  world  knows  by  this  time,  a  struggle  for 
political  power  and  ascendency — for  the  patronage  of  tlio  ro- 


SOCIAL  AND  POLITICAL  ASPECTS  OF  SLAVERY.  246 


Is  and 

iro  of  ft 
licit  iho 
feather 
well  to 
I  United 
care  no 
howe  or 
\er  polit- 
wo  come 
amtc  the 
oncoB  are 
cxfwpcr- 
licy  quite 
rotcction- 
ident  frcc- 
EicrottBO  of 
>t  only  not 
h  industry 
clothes  for 
mostic  u»o 
and  more 
this  if5  the 
»ion  in  the 
|b  votes  for 
in  his  in- 


public,  and  of  the  several  commonwealths  which  compose  it. 
The  men  of  the  North  and  of  the  West — whether  they  be  the 
old  and  staid  conservatives  of  such  states  as  Massachusetts  and 
Connecticut,  or  the  hardy  pioneers  of  Michigan,  Wisconsin, 
und  Kansas,  or  those  equally  hardy  and  more  adventurous 
and  far-sighted  "  go-a-heads"  who  look  to  Nebraska,  Oregon, 
Columbia,  and  even  cast  a  longing  look  to  the  arable  land  of 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  as  the  scene  of  their  future  oper- 
ations in  the  art  and  industry  of  state-making — may  ask  why 
individually,  and  man  for  man,  they  should  be  of  less  account 
than  the  slave-owners  and  slave-breeders  of  the  South,  who 
vote  in  right  of  their  slaves,  but  do  nothing  to  extend  the 
boundaries  of  the  Union,  unless  by  aggression  upon  the  do- 
minions of  independent  European  and  American  powers? 
And  this  is  the  main  difference  between  the  two  great  sec- 
tions.    The  Southern  States  desire  to  annex,  and  to  increase 
the  territories  cf  th^  Union,  but  they  have  no  means  of  doing 
so  unless  by  war,  just  or  unjust,  against  Mexico  and  Spain, 
and  the  eifete,  ridiculous,  and  perishing  republics  of  Spaniards, 
half-breeds,  and  quadroons,  that  vegetate  southward  of  Mex- 
ico as  far  as  Panama.     The  Northern  States,  on  the  contrary, 
in  sending  out  their  pioneers,  come  into  contact  with  no  Eu- 
ropean powers.     The  wilderness  is  their  natural  inheritance, 
and  neither  to  them  nor  to  their  forefathers  has  the  Red  Man 
been  an  invincible  or  even  a  formidable  obstruction.     It  has 
always  been  possible  to  deal  with  him  without  doing  much 
violence  to  the  consciences  of  those  who  traded  or  fought  with 
him.    Philanthropy,  very  like  misanthropy  in  its  results,  gave 
him  trinkets  and  fire-water,  that  he  might  "  civilize  himself 
off  the  face  of  the  earth ;"  and  the  Puritan  or  the  peddler 
stepped  into  his  broad  acres,  and  made  himself,  like  Alexander 
Selkirk  or  Robinson  Crusoe,  the   autocrat  of  every  circle 
bounded  by  the  horizon.     The  North  is  compelled  by  nature, 
instinct,  policy,  and  calculation  to  send  forth  its  superabund- 
ant children  to  subdue  and  replenish  the  fruitful  earth  not 
otherwise  preoccupied.     The  South  has  no  such  chances.     It 
sees  a  territory  farther  south  which  is  already  subdued  and 
replenished,  though  by  an  inferior  race,  and  must  either  take 


# 


a  ■'■'■i.-ii. 


246 


LIFE  AND  LIBEKTY  IS  AMERICA. 


m 


mm 


mu-i 


mk 


!i-b'" 


■:9riliii' 

iiil!:'"' 


ii 


that  tciTitory,  per  fas  aut  nefas,  from  its  present  possessors, 
or  consent  to  be  outnumbered,  outwcighted,  and  conquered  by 
its  rivals  for  power  and  office  at  Washington.  To  Euroi)eans 
it  sometimes  appears  strange  that  the  United  States — as  an 
aggregate,  already  sufficiently  large — should  have  such  an  in- 
satiable lust  of  territory  as  to  invade  Mexican,  Spanish,  and 
other  independent  territories  in  this  ruthless  and  unconscion- 
able fashion ;  but,  fairly  and  dispassionately  looked  upon,  it 
seems  as  if  the  "manifest  destiny"  of  which  they  speak  were 
no  dream,  but  a  reality.  They  are  doomed  to  "annex"  by 
the  necessities  of  their  social  politics.  Like  Robespierre,  they 
must  cut  off  heads  or  lose  their  own.  Mexico  is  tempting, 
and  Cuba  is  more  tempting  still;  yet  the  prizes  are  costly. 
As  for  the  little  republics  carved  out  of  the  weakness  of  Spain, 
which  lengthen  and  spin  out  their  useless  lives  in  the  latitudes 
between  Mexico  and  Panama,  no  power  on  the  earth,  even  if 
it  can,  will  be  so  foolish  as  to  interfere  to  prevent  the  inevi- 
table consummation  either  of  their  absorption  into  the  Amer- 
ican Union,  or  of  their  annexation,  in  some  more  dependent 
form,  to  the  great  confederation.  Were  it  not  that  the  Consti- 
tution of  the  United  States  had  made  no  provision  for  any  in- 
crease except  by  the  normal  form  and  force  of  agglomeration 
and  accretion,  the  Spanish  republics  or  empires  (for  these 
moribund  states  change  from  one  political  condition  to  another 
with  kaleidoscopic  rapidity)  would  long  ago  have  been  ab- 
sorbed into  the  ever-gaping  and  yawning  maw  of  Uncle  Sam. 
And  herein  exists  a  difficulty  for  the  Union,  all  consequent 
upon  slavery,  and  the  antagonism  "which  it  excites  at  the 
North.  Foreign  conquest  appears  to  be  imperative ;  but,  if 
it  be  undertaken,  how  will  the  North,  which  only  wars  with 
the  Indian,  with  desolation,  and  the  wild  beasts  of  the  forest,  be 
affected  by  a  state  of  affairs  alien  to  the  intentions  of  the 
founders  of  the  Constitution,  and  to  the  whole  spirit  of  the 
most  populous  and  energetic  portion  of  the  republic  ?  The 
answer  to  the  question  is  in  the  future.  No  one  can  foresee 
the  ultimate  pattern  which  the  moving  of  the  shuttles  and  rol- 
lers will  produce,  or  whether  the  whole  machine  will  not  ul- 
timately break  into  pieces.     The  strength  of  a  chain  cable  is 


PRO-SLAVERY  PUILOSOPIIV. 


24: 


»CPSOTS, 

crctl  by 

roijenns 

— as  an 

I  an  in- 

isb,  and 

onscion- 

upon,  it 

;ak  were 

inex"  by 

jrre,  tbey 

tempting, 

re  costly. 

i  of  Spain, 

5  latitudes 

h,  even  if 

the  inevi- 

tbe  Araer- 

dependent 

tbe  Consti- 

for  any  in- 

lomeration 
(for  these 
to  another 
»  been  ab- 
Jncle  Sam. 
:onsequent 
tes  at  the 
e;  but,  if 
wars  with 
le  forest,  be 
ions  of  the 
>irit  of  the 
»lic'?     The 
lean  foresee 
iea  and  rol- 
riU  not  ul- 
in  cable  is 


but  the  Rtrcngth  of  its  weakest  part.  The  fttrcngtii  of  tiio 
American  Union  is  tlio  strcngtii  of  slavery.  It  i.s  that  ques- 
tion which  bears  the  whole  stniin  of  the  mighty  ship ;  and,  if 
it  prove  strong  enough,  the  ship  may  defy  uU  other  dangers, 
iind  ride  triumphantly  upon  all  seas  and  into  all  ports.  But 
if  that  link  be  weak  or  broken,  and  have  no  sup^  >rts  in  na- 
ture and  necessity,  and  no  links  in  the  heart  of  humanity,  it 
will  drop  sooner  or  later,  and  then  the  world  will  sec  a  new 
shifting  of  the  kaleidoscope.  The  focus  may  be  symmetrical, 
but  the  component  parts  will  bo  differently  disposed ;  and  the 
Northern  States  may  make  one  pattern,  the  Southern  a  sec- 
ond, and  the  Californian  or  Pacific  sea-board  a  third.  There 
is  room  enough  and  to  spare  for  all  of  them. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


PRO-SLAVEUY   rillLOSOPHY. 


'here  was  a  time,  not  veiy  remote,  when  the  slaveholders 
Oi  the  South  and  their  supporters,  driven  into  a  corner  by  the 
arguments  of  the  abolitionists,  were  content  to  rest  their  case 
upon  the  existence  of  slavery  as  a  great  fact — "  a  chiel  that 
wadna  ding" — and  which  it  was  useless  to  dispute.  They 
agreed  that  per  se  slavery  was  wrong,  and  not  to  be  defended 
upon  philosophical  or  religious  grounds;  but  they  insisted 
that  to  abolish  it  would  be  to  produce  far  greater  calamities, 
both  to  the  slave  and  his  master,  than  to  permit  its  continu- 
ance, with  such  modifications  as  circumstances  might  allow. 
Virtually  they  gave  up  the  controversy,  and  made  an  appeal 
ad  misericordiam  to  the  vulgar  common  sense  of  mankind,  to 
the  conservative  feelings  of  many,  who  would  rather  submit 
to  old  evils  tlian  run  risks  of  new  experiments,  to  the  general 
laziness  and  selfishness  of  the  masses,  who  are  content  to  en- 
dure the  existence  of  afflictions  that  do  not  come  home  to 
themselves;  and  they  strengthened  all  these  arguments  in 
favor  of  the  status  quo  by  many  economic  considerations  of 
trade  and  commerce,  and  the  supposed  necessity  that  lay 


!  I 


r-v 


248 


LIFE  AND  LIBEUTY  IN  AMERICA. 


H 


,1 


m 


iipon  England  to  manufacture  cotton  under  the  penalty  of 
revolution,  and  the  equally  strong  nccesnity  to  produce  it, 
under  the  siuiilar  penalty  of  ruin,  that  weighed  upon  the 
Southern  States  of  the  Union,  llie  easy  politicians  of  the 
Middle  and  Northern  States,  from  Pennsylvania  to  Maine, 
and  from  New  York  to  Wisconsin,  who  cared  a  great  deal 
more  for  the  Union  than  for  the  '^  rights  of  man*' — and  es- 
pecially of  that  portion  of  the  race  which  happened  to  have 
black  skins — were  quite  contented  to  rest  the  existence  of 
slavery  upon  arguments  such  as  these ;  while  in  favor  of  free- 
dom in  the  abstract  they  postponed  into  the  indefinite  future 
all.  attempts  to  realize  it.  "  After  this  generation  let  the 
deluge  come,  but  kt  us  not  be  disturbed  in  our  time."  Such 
was  their  prayer  and  such  their  policy.  Imbued  with  these 
motives,  they  strengthened  the  "  peculiar  institution"  which 
they  affected  to  condemn,  and  allowed  the  black  man  to  be  a 
man  theoretically,  but  not  a  man  politically  or  socially.  In 
their  refusal  to  eat,  or  drink,  or  pray  with  him,  or  to  allow 
him  the  civil  rights  which  they  claimed  for  themselves  in  vir- 
tue of  their  white  skins,  they  treated  him,  in  effect,  as  if  he 
were  only  a  superior  kind  of  horse,  or  perhaps  of  monkey ;  a 
docile,  useful,  agreeable,  affectionate  brute ;  to  be  kindly  treat- 
ed, but  still  a  brute ;  and  no  more  fit  to  h  3rve  upon  a  jury,  to 
sit  upon  the  bench,  or  to  be  governor  of  a  State,  than  Gulliver 
was  to  give  laws  to  the  Houylmhnms,  or  Caisar's  horse  to  be 
a  consul. 

But  within  the  last  two  or  three  years  a  change  has  co?ae 
over  the  philosophy  and  the  tactics  of  the  slaveholders,  llie 
North  is  weary  of  the  "Nigger  question ;"  and  the  South,  feel- 
ing the  weakness  of  a  position  dependent  upon  the  toleration 
of  its  foes,  has  ceased  to  make  the  appeal  ad  misericordiam. 
Not  only  justifying  slavery  as  an  established  fact,  they  have 
gone  one  step  lower  (or  an  infinite  number  of  steps  lower), 
and  asserted  it  to  be  a  reasonable,  a  benevolent,  and  a  divine 
institution — an  institution  entirely  in  the  order  of  nature,  and 
one  far  better  for  the  slave  than  freedom ;  better  fpr  the  mas- 
ter, better  for  the  workman  and  for  him  who  profits  by  the 
work,  and  who  calls  himself  a  shopkeeper  or  a  merchant :  a 


PBO-SLAVESY  PHILOSOPIIY. 


249 


My  of 
uco  it, 
on  iUo 

of  the 
Maine, 
at  deal 
and  Os- 
lo have 
Dnco  of 

of  frec- 

0  future 
let  the 

'  Such 
itb  these 
i"  which 

1  to  be  a 

ally.     In 
to  allow 
es  in  vir- 
,  as  if  he 
onkey;  a 
idly  treat- 
a  jury, to 
Gulliver 
orse  to  he 

has  coraa 
era.    ITic 
iouth,  feel- 
toleration 
.ricordiaiih 
they  have 
ps  lower), 
d  a  divine 
lature,  and 
ir  the  mas- 
fits  by  the 
irchant:  a 


system  that  is  not  dependent  upon  the  color  or  race  of  those 
who  are  enslaved,  but  which  may  conduce  to  the  advantage 
of  a  white  slave  quite  as  much  as  to  that  of  the  black.     In 
one  sentence  they  allege  slavery  to  be  the  normal  and  only 
proper  condition  of  society.     Instead  of  being  defendants  in 
the  greiU  court  of  the  world*s  opinion,  they  have  assumed  the 
position  of  plaintiffs.     They  have  intrenched  themselves  upon 
their  rights,  and  accuse  all  that  portion  of  the  European  world 
which  condemns  slavery  as  being  false  not  alone  to  morality 
and  religion,  but  to  the  true  principles  of  trade  and  to  the 
philanthropy  of  social  science.     In  short,  the  slaveholders — 
worried,  vexed,  perplexed,  and  exasperated — liave,  like  a  dy- 
ing stag  in  the  wilderness,  dor.e  desperate  battle  with  their 
opponents.     They  have  taken  up  a  position  with  their  backs 
to  the  rock,  and  defied  all  onslaught.     Over  any  foes  who 
will  recognize  things  so  totally  distinct,  but  in  their  minds  so 
homogeneous  as  the  authority  of  the  Bible,  the  right  of  Labor 
and  its  adequate  reward,  the  superiority  of  intellect  to  animal 
strength,  and  the  distress  and  misery  of  European  laborers, 
they  claim  a  logical,  a  political,  a  philosophical,  and  a  relig- 
ious triumph.     They  assert  themselves  to  be  students  and 
neophytes  no  longer,  but  doctors  of  the  law.     They  speak  no 
more  with  bated  breath,  as  if  they  were  afraid  of  somebody, 
but  bellow  and  thunder  ex  cathedra,  calling  upon  the  whole 
world  to  listen  to  a  philosophy  as  old  as  history  and  as  inde- 
structible as  human  society.    "  Slavery  is  no  evil,"  they  say ; 
"  so  far  from  its  being  a  wrong,  or  the  curse  of  humanity,  it 
is  the  proper  condition  of  tlie  masses  of  mankind,  and  better 
than  the  freedom  in  which  they  pine  and  starve,  and — if  they 
do  not  go  to  the  grave  before  their  time — in  which  they  breed 
revolution  and  war.     The  black  man  is  necessarily  the  first 
slave,  because  he  is  the  stupidest,  the  least  valuable,  and  most 
easily  captured ;  but  the  white  laborer  with  nothing  to  give 
to  the  world  on  whose  bosom  he  was  bom  but  the  unskilled 
labor  of  his  brawny  arms,  in  a  slave  de  facto  in  every  part  of 
the  earth,  and  were  he  a  slave  de  jure,  would  be  happier 
and  more  comfortable  than  he  can  ever  hope  to  be  under  the 
system  prevalent  in  Europe  and  in  the  free  states  of  America.'* 

L2 


250 


I.IFE  AND  LlBEH-n'   IX  AMKTIICA. 


'I   ^'i 


Such  is  tlio  trutni-tct-bhuot  blown  in  loud  and  wiucy  dcflnnce 
by  the  new  gononuion  of  Southern  writcrH  and  politicinuH. 
Among  these,  one  of  the  ablest  and  most  conscientious — a 
man  who  writes  as  if  he  believed  himself  to  Ixj  the  preacher 
and  the  apostle  of  a  new  science  which  is  to  enlighten  the 
darkened,  and  reform  the  corrupted  world — is  Mr.  George 
Fitz  Hugh,  of  Virginia.  Thia  gentleman  boldly  enunciates 
the  theory  that  free  society  is  a  failure ;  and  that  the  best,  if 
not  the  only  ho})c  of  civilization,  unless  it  would  fall  the  prey 
of  stronger  and  honester  barbarism,  is  the  re-establishment  of 
slavery,  indejKindently  of  color  and  race,  in  every  part  of  the 
world.  Although  the  Gospel  be  preached,  the  rails  be  laid, 
and  locomotives  run — although  the  electric  telegraph  sends 
its  messages,  and  the  printing-press  is  in  constant  activity, 
disseminating  ideas — ho  holds  his  system  to  be  fully  adapted 
to  such  a  state  of  circumstances.  There  ai*c  many  other 
writers,  both  in  prose  and  verse,  who  have  taken  up  this  prin- 
ciple as  the  social  religion  of  the  South,  but  Mr.  Fitz  Hugh  is 
the  one  who  has  gone  most  systematically  and  philosophically 
into  the  discussion,  and  laid  down  authoritatively  a  system 
of  slaveiy  pure  and  simple.  He  would  not  only  enslave  the 
negroes,  but  the  poor  Irish  and  German  immigrants  as  fast 
as  they  arrive  in  New  York,  and  either  send  them  off  to  till 
the  ground  in  the  cotton  and  sugar  regions,  or  sell  them  at 
Charleston  or  New  Orleans  by  public  auction  to  the  highest 
bidder.  "  Liberty  is  for  the  few — slavery,  in  eveiy  form,  is 
for  the  many !"  That  is  the  maxim  of  which  he  attempts  to 
justify  the  universal  relevancy  by  history,  by  philosophy,  by 
religion,  and  by  the  "  eternal  fitness  of  things." 

It  may  be  thought  that  Mr.  Fitz  Hugh  and  the  other  doc- 
trinaires of  slavery  write  in  jest.  On  the  contrary,  they  write 
in  glim  earnest,  and  as  if  they  were  the  founders  of  a  new  or 
the  restorers  of  an  old  religion.  But  their  arguments,  when 
not  supported  by  or  drawn  from  the  Old  Testament,  and  the 
"  bondage"  known  a^.^ong  the  Egyptians  and  the  Jews,  or  from 
the  negative  support  they  derive  from  the  absence  of  an  ex- 
press denunciation  of  sslavery  in  the  New  Testament,  and  the 
more  positive  authority  which  they  imagine  they  have  discov- 


PRO-SLAVERY  PHILOSOPHY. 


251 


iciaiiH. 

ouft — 'A 
rcachcr 
:en  tho 
George 
inciatcs 
best,  if 
he  prey 
mcnt  of 
•t  of  tlic 
be  laid, 
)h  sends 
activity, 
adapted 
ny  other 
this  prin- 
B  Hugh  is 
lophically 
I  a  system 
islavc  the 
ts  as  fast 
off  to  till 
I  them  at 
10  highest 
y  form,  is 
tempts  to 
)sophy,  by 

other  doc- 
they  write 

a  new  or 
ents,  when 
it,  and  the 
vs,  or  from 

of  an  ex- 
it, and  the 
ive  discov- 


ered in  the  book  of  Revdationts  when,  at  tho  opening  of  tho 
j'ixth  peal,  tlio  free  man  and  the  "  bond"  arc  to  call  upon  the 
r»)ck8  to  cover  them  from  the  wrath  of  the  Almighty,  arc  chief- 
ly devoted  to  tho  one  point  upon  which  they  make  the  wholo 
question  to  revolve,  the  8U|)criority  of  the  physical  condition 
of  the  slave  to  that  of  the  free  laborer  in  Europe.     The  poets 
of  the  South  attempt  to  sing  of  the  happy  Arcadia  where  tho 
planter,  like  the  patriarch  of  old,  sits  under  the  shadow  of  his 
vine,  and  treats  his  slaves  as  if  they  were  the  members  of  his 
own  family,  the  sharers  in  all  his  gains,  his  faithful  and  affec- 
tionate dependents,  who  are  provided  for  by  h»s  care,  who  en- 
joy all  the  benefits  of  his  prosperity,  but  never  suffer  from  his 
adversity ;  who  work  for  the  common  good  when  they  are  hale 
and  well,  and  who,  when- they  are  old  and  sick,  or  from  any 
cause  unable  to  work,  are  tended  quite  as  affectionately  as  if 
they  still  contributed  to  the  common  stock.    Philosophers  like 
Mr.  Fitz  Hugh,  while  painting  the  same  sunny  picture,  and 
holding  up  tho  condition  of  the  slave  as  if  it  were  the  summum 
boniuii  of  human  blidS,  dive  deeper  than  the  poets  into  the  so- 
cial causes  of  the  state  of  things  of  which  they  so  highly  ap- 
prove, and  demonstrate,  to  their  own  satisfaction  and  that  of 
all  the  South,  that  the  few  must  be  lords  and  the  many  slaves, 
and  that  tho  lordship  on  the  one  side  and  the  slavery  on  tho 
other  arc  equally  right  and  mutually  beneficial.     And  from 
this  peculiar  point  of  view  their  arguments  are  sound.    If  tho 
sole  aim,  end,  and  enjoyment  of  the  bulk  of  mankind  be  to  eat 
and  drink,  to  be  clad  and  housed,  and  to  have  no  care  for  the 
morrow — no  moral  responsibilities — no  harassing  duties,  that 
make  them  prematurely  old,  not  so  much  with  labor  as  with 
anxiety,  then  the  condition  of  the  slave  in  the  Southern  States 
of  the  American  Union  is  superior  to  that  of  the  free  laborer 
in  Europe.     To  the  argument  that  "  man  shall  not  live  by 
bread  alone" — that  his  moral,  intellectual,  and  religious  na- 
ture— of  infinitely  greater  importance  than  his  merely  physical 
well-being— can  not  only  not  be  cultivated  and  developed,  but 
must  deteriorate  in  a  state  of  slavery — these  writers  reply  with 
scorn :  "  The  customary  theories  of  modern  ethical  philosophy, 
whether  utilitarian  or  sentimental,"  says  Mr.  Fitz  Hugh,  "  are 


\  il 


f.i         |. 


252 


LIFE  ANIJ   LIBERTY   IN  AMERICA. 


(•PI 


I    <^ 


so  fallaciouA,  or  so  fulM  in  their  premiaefl  and  their  deductions 
as  to  deserve  reject iuii,  and  must  bo  replaced  by  othcre  found- 
ed on  a  broader  philosophicul  Hygtem  and  on  more  Christian 
principles."  "  The  world  will  full  buck  on  domestic  slavery 
when  all  other  social  forms  huvo  fuilcd  and  been  exhausted. 
That  hour  may  not  bo  fiu"  off."  *'  I  treat  of  slavery  as  a  posi- 
tive good,  not  a  necessary  evil."     Such  is  the  new  doctrine. 

Mr.  Fitz  Hugh  draws  a  contrast  between  what  he  calls  the 
white  slave-trade  and  what  others  cull  the  black  slave-trade 
very  much  to  the  disadvantage  of  the  former.  He  defines  the 
white  slave-trade  to  mean  the  employment  of  white  men  at 
low  wages,  regulated  rather  by  the  keenness  of  their  own  com- 
petition witV.  one  another  than  by  the  intrinsic  value  of  their 
labor,  and  their  non-sustcnancc,  as  soon  as  they  become  impo- 
tent and  unfit  to  work,  by  those  employers  who  made  the 
mnt  of  them  when  they  were  strong.  lie  alleges  it  to  be  far 
more  cruel  than  the  black  slave-trade,  'inasmuch  ns  it  exacts 
more  from  the  workers,  and  neither  protects  nor  govenis  them." 
He  asserts  that  when  the  abolitionists,  or  enemies  of  slavery, 
proclaim  that  white  labor  is  cheaper  than  black,  they  destroy 
their  own  case ;  and,  so  fur  from  leading  men  of  sense  to  give 
the  blacks  their  freedom,  they  merely  lead  the  true  philan- 
thropist and  the  wise  philosopher  to  govern,  employ,  protect, 
and  enslave  the  whites.  The  whole  theory  is  thus  stated  in 
the  first  chapter  of  Mr.  Fitz  Hugh's  treatise : 

"  The  profits  made  from  free  labor  are  the  amount  of  the 
products  of  such  labor  which  the  employer,  by  means  of  the 
command  which  capital  or  skill  gives  him,  takes  away,  exacts, 
or  exploitates  from  the  free  laborer. 

"  The  profits  of  slave  labor  are  that  portion  of  the  products 
of  such  labor  which  the  power  of  the  master  enables  him  to 
appropriate.  T/iese  profits  are  h  ^,  because  the  master  allows  the 
slave  to  retain  a  larger  share  of  the  results  of  his  own  labor  than 
do  the  employers  of  free  labor. 

"  But  we  not  only  boast  that  the  white  slave-trade  is  more 
exacting  and  fraudulent  than  black  slavery,  but  that  it  is  more 
cruel,  in  leaving  the  laborer  to  take  care  of  himself  and  fam- 
ily out  of  the  pittance  which  skill  or  capital  have  allowed  him 


PRO-BLAVERY  PHILOeOPIIY. 


258 


uctionf 
I  found- 
hriHtiun 
slavery 
lauBted. 
i  ft  posi- 
Kjtrine. 
calls  the 
ivo-tradc 
iflnes  the 
0  men  at 
)wn  com- 
0  of  their 
imo  impo- 
madc  the 
t  to  be  far 
9  it  exacta 
pns  them." 
of  slavery, 
icy  destroy 
ISO  to  give 
vie  philan- 
>y»  protect, 
3  stated  in 

3unt  of  the 
sans  of  the 
vay,  exacts. 


to  retain.  "  AVhcn  his  day's  lahor  is  ended  ho  w  free,  hut  ovcr- 
hurdvned  with  tlio  cures  of  his  family  and  houschohl,  whirh 
make  his  freedom  an  empty  and  dclu»ivo  mockery.  But  las 
employer  is  really  free,  and  may  enjoy  the  prolUs  made  hy 
other  (Xioplu'g  labor  without  a  care  or  trouble  as  to  their  well- 
being-  Tho  negro  slave  is  frej  too  when  the  labors  of  the 
i!ay  are  over,  and  free  in  mind  ^.\»  well  as  in  body ;  for  tho 
master  provides  food,  niiment,  house,  fuel,  and  every  thing 
else  necessary  to  tho  physical  well-being  of  himself  and  fami- 
ly. Tho  master's  labors  commence  when  tho  slave's  end. 
No  wonder  white  slaveholders  should  preRr  the  slavery  of 
white  men  and  capital  to  negr)  slavery,  since  the  white  slave- 
holding  is  more  profitable,  and  is  free  from  all  tho  cares  and 
labors  of  black  slave-holding." 

Here  is  the  picture  drawn  i  ;  supp'^.rt  of  tl»"  first  part  of 
the  principle :  "The  negro  slaves,"  says  Mr.  F.  •,  Hugh,  "  are 
tho  happiest,  and,  in  some  cases,  the  fret  i  people  in  tho 
world.  The  children  and  the  aged  k  kI  infirm  wor'.  not  at 
all,  and  yet  have  all  the  comforts  an  1.  necessaries  of  life  pro- 
vided for  them.  They  enjoy  liberty,  because  they  are  not  op- 
pressed either  by  care  or  labor.  The  women  do  little  hard 
work,  and  are  protected  from  the  despotism  of  theii  husbands 
by  their  masters.  The  negro  men  rnd  stout  boys  work  on 
the  average,  in  good  weather,  not  more  than  nine  hours  a 
day ;  the  balance  of  their  time  is  spent  in  perfect  abandon. 
l^esides  this,  they  have  their  Sabbaths  and  holidays.  White 
men,  with  so  much  of  license  and  liberty,  would  die  of  ennui; 
but  negroes  luxuriate  in  c:~poreal  and  mental  repose.  "With 
faces  upturned  to  tho  su^;:,  iicy  can  sleep  at  any  hour,  and 
quiet  sleep  is  the  greatest  of  human  enjoyments." 

This  is  the  picture  drawn  in  support  of  the  second :  "  Tlie 
free  laborer  must  worlr.  or  starve.  He  is  more  of  a  slave  than 
the  negro,  because  he  works  longer  and  harder  for  less  al- 
lowance than  the  slave,  and  has  no  holidays,  because  with 
him  the  cares  of  life  begin  when  its  labors  end.  He  has  no 
liberty,  and  not  a  single  right.  We  know  it  is  often  said  that 
au"  and  water  are  common  property,  in  which  all  have  equal 
right  to  participate  and  enjoy.     But  this  is  utterly  fiilsc. 


254 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


A. 


TIic  ni>proprintion  of  the  lands  carries  with  it  the  appropria- 
tion of  all  on  or  above  the  lands,  usgue  ad  calum^  aut  ad  infc 
ro8.  A  man  can  not  breathe  the  air  without  a  place  to 
breathe  it  from,  and  all  places  are  appropriated.  All  water 
is  private  property  *  to  the  middle  of  the  stream/  except  the 
ocean,  and  that  is  not  fit  to  drink. 

"Free  laborers  have  not  a  thousandth  part  of  the  rights 
and  liberties  of  negro  slaves.  Indeed,  they  have  not  a  single 
right  or  liberty  except  the  right  or  liberty  to  die. 

"Where  a  few  own  the  soil,  they  have  unlimited  power 
over  the  balance  of  society  until  domes^tic  slavery  comes  in  to 
compel  them  to  permit  this  balance  of  society  to  draw  a  suffi- 
cient and  comfortable  living  from  teiTa  mater. 

"  Free  society  asserts  the  right  of  a  few  men  to  the  earth. 
Slavery  maintains  that  it  belongs  in  different  degrees  to  all. 

"  The  slave-trade  is  the  only  trade  worth  following ;  slaves 
the  only  property  worth  owning.  All  other  is  worthless,  a 
mere  caput  niortuum,  except  in  so  far  as  it  vests  the  owner 
with  the  power  to  command  the  labor  of  others;  ia  other 
words,  to  enslave  them.  Give  you  a  palace  —  ten  thousand 
acres  of  land,  and  you  are  poorer  than  Robinson  Crusoe  if 
you  have  no  slaves  —  either  to  capital  or  domestic  slaves. 
Your  capital  will  not  bring  you  an  income  of  a  cent,  nor  sup- 
ply one  of  your  wants  without  labor.  Labor  is  indispensable 
to  give  value  to  property.  If  you  owned  every  thing  else, 
and  did  not  own  labor,  you  would  be  poor.  But  fifty  thou- 
sand dollars  mean,  and  are,  fifty  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 
slaves.  You  can  command,  without  touching  on  that  capital, 
three  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  labor  per  annum.  You 
could  do  no  more  were  you  to  buy  slaves  with  it,  and  then 
you  would  be  cumbered  with  the  cares  of  governing  and  pro- 
viding for  them.  You  are  a  slaveholder  now  to  the  extent 
of  fifty  thousand  dollars,  with  all  the  advantages,  and  none 
of  the  disadvantages  and  responsibilities  of  a  master. 

"  Property  in  man  is  what  every  body  is  struggling  to  ob- 
tain. Why  should  we  not  be  obliged  to  take  care  of  men, 
our  property,  as  we  do  of  our  horses  and  our  hounds,  our  cat- 
tle and  our  sheep  ?    Now,  under  the  delusive  name  of  liberty, 


*      PRO-SLAVERY  PHILOSOPHY. 


265 


propria- 
ad  infe- 
place  to 
Jl  water 
fcccpt  tlic 

he  rights 
)t  a  single 

ted  power 
omcs  in  to 
aw  a  suffi- 

the  earth. 
5CS  to  ail- 
ing; slaves 
^vortliless,  a 
the  owner 
s;   vx  other 
^n  thousand 
a  Crusoe  if 
estic  slaves. 
;nt,  nor  sup- 
ndispensablc 
thing  else, 
,t  fifty  thou- 
■a'  worth  of 
that  capital, 
.num.     ^^0" 
it,  and  then 
ling  and  pro- 
the  extent 
[es,  and  none 
iter. 

Iggling  to  oh- 

jcarc  of  men, 

inds,  our  cat- 

^.e  of  liberty, 


the  free  laborer  is  wrought  from  mom  to  evo,  from  infancy  to 
old  age,  and  then  turned  out  to  starve.*' 

It  will  be  seen  from  this  abstract  how  bold  tlic  assertion, 
how  weak  the  argument,  and  how  great  the  fallacy  that  un- 
derlies the  whole.     To  horse,  bullock,  or  dog — to  white  man 
or  to  black — yuch  rcasonei*s  apply  the  same  rule ;  for  horse, 
bullock,  dog,  and  man  arc  only  different  varieties  of  the  work- 
er— to  be  all  tended  and  taken  care  of,  as  thei'*  natures  re- 
quire— all  unfit,  though  in  ever-varying  degrees,  to  take  care 
of  themselves.     But,  without  personal  disrespect  to  Mr.  Fitz 
IIugh|  who  is  evidently  a  sincere  and  an  accomplished  man, 
or  to  any  others  who  have  preceded  or  followed  him  in  the 
enunciation  of  his  doctrine,  may  we  not  ask  him  and  them  to 
consider  in  what  condition  he  or  they  would  have  been  in  at 
this  moment  if  tic  principles  of  the  philosophy  they  uphold 
had  been  acted  upon  in  the  case  of  white  laborers  in  England, 
or  Europe  generally,  at  and  subsequent  to  the  period  of  the 
discovery  and  colonization  of  America  *?    Perhaps  two  out  of 
three  of  the  white  population  now  flourishing  in  the  South — 
the  owners  and  rulers  of  the  soil  of  the  most  fertile  portions 
of  the  United  States — are  the  descendants  of  laborers — men 
of  mere  arms  and  sinews — men  born  to  till  the  earth,  and 
having  no  skill  or  knowledge  of  any  other  art  but  that  of  ag- 
riculture in  its  rudest  forms.     Had  their  progenitors  been 
made  slaves  of  then — as  they  ought  to  have  been,  if  the  the- 
ory be  good  for  any  thing — their  descendants,  and  perhaps 
Mr.  Fitz  Hugh  among  the  rest,  would  have  been  slaves  also, 
and,  according  to  his  argument,  far  better  off,  physically,  than 
they  can  hope  to  be  under  the  regime  of  personal  liberty. 
But  what  would  have  been  the  progress  of  the  great  continent 
of  America?     Who  would  have  fought  with  Washington  for 
the  independence  of  a  noble  nation  ?     Who  would  have  cov- 
ered the  land  with  railroads,  and  sent  ships  to  every  sea? 
Who  would  have  built  such  cities  as  New  York,  Washington, 
Cincinnati,  St.  Louis,  and  San  Francisco  ?    And  where  would 
be  the  great  republic  that,  young  as  it  is,  holds  up  its  head 
among  the  mightiest  powers  of  the  earth,  and  treats  with 
them  as  equal  to  equal  ? 


'■r^s^^: 


256 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AKERICA. 


The  basis  of  this  philosophy — if  it  bo  not  a  desecration  of 
the  name  so  to  apply  it — is  the  grossest  sensualism.  Better  be 
a  sleek  horse,  or  a  corpulent  pig  snoozing  upon  a  dunghill, 
than  a  lean  man  overburdened  with  anxiety.  Such  is  the  ul- 
timate clement  into  which  all  such  reasoning  resolves  itself. 
And  no  doubt  there  is  many  a  pig  which  is  happier  than  a 
man.  To  suflfer,  and  to  elevate  ourselves  by  suffering,  is  our 
great  privilege  as  human  beings.  To  endure  and  to  grow  Is 
in  the  essence  of  the  immortal  mind.  Were  it  not  so,  the  gra- 
dations of  happiness  would  extend  downward,  and  not  upward. 
Tlio  happy  pig  would  be  less  happy  than  the  oyster ;  and  the 
oyster  itself  would  be  a  miserable  creature  compared  with  the 
monad,  and  still  more  miserable  compared  with  a  stone.  We 
should  either  wallow  in  the  styes  of  sensualism,  or  take  refuge 
in  the  Brahminical  philosophy — that  annihilation  is  supreme 
bliss.  We  should  live  lives  of  despair  instead  of  hope,  and  cry 
in  our  blank  misery,  with  melancholy  Byron, 

"  Count  o'er  the  joys  thy  days  have  seen  ; 
Count  o'er  thine  hours  from  anguish  free  ; 
And  know,  whatever  thou  hast  been, 
"lis  something  better  not  to  be." 

But  it  is  not  necessary  to  argue  out  to  its  ultimate  deduc- 
tions a  system  like  this,  tipoii  which  many  readers  may  per- 
haps be  of  opinion  that  too  much  has  already  been  said.  It 
was,  however,  necessary  to  say  thus  much,  to  indicate,  for  the 
better  comprehension  of  English  readers,  the  new  phase  into 
which  the  slavery  and  anti-slavery  controversy  has  entered. 
The  friends  of  slavery  act  no  longer  on  the  defensive.  They 
have  outgrown  their  early  timidity.  They  no  more  walk  wa- 
rily, as  if  upon  rotten  ice,  but  step  out  boldly,  as  if  upon  the 
rock  and  the  solid  earth. 

Slaves,  in  a  certain  sense,  all  men  are.  We  are  slaves  to 
the  law  of  gravitation  and  to  the  laws  of  health ;  slaves  to 
hunger  and  thirst;  slaves  to  our  passions  and  our  affections; 
slaves  to  our  prejudices :  slaves  too  and  prisoners  of  the  earth, 
from  which  we  can  not  escape  under  the  penalty  of  death.  We 
are  slaves  to  capital  also — as  Mr.  Fitz  Hugh  asserts — unmis- 
takably slaves  to  it ;  and  the  capitalist,  also,  is  the  slave  of  the 


•i  ■•  V 


PRO-SLAVERY  PUILOSOPHY. 


267 


alion  of 
3ctter  be 
dungbill, 
is  the  ul- 
-es  itself. 
3r  than  a 
ng,  is  our 
to  grow  w 
0,  the  gra- 
jt  upward. 
r ;  and  the 
;d  with  the 
tone.    We 
take  refuge 
is  supreme 
)pe,  and  cry 


mate  deduc- 
srs  may  per- 
sen  scud.    It 
icatc,  for  the 
(V  phase  into 
has  entered. 
asive.    They 
ore  walk  wa- 
s  if  upon  the 


laborer,  without  whom,  aa  he  wiya,  all  his  capital  is  worthless. 
But  Mr.  Fitz  Hugh,  and  all  tiie  Southern  reasoners,  who  look 
upon  him  as  the  apostle  of  the  new  faith  which  is  to  end  all 
controversy  with  those  who  maintain  that  a  black  man  is  not 
a  chattel,  must  go  far  deeper  into  first  principles  before  thv  y 
can  convince  one  human  being,  out  of  the  narrow  circle  of 
Southern  society,  that  they  have  either  made  a  discr     ry,  or 
that  their  discovery  is  of  the  slightest  value.     The  '  :ute  la- 
borer is  a  slave,  and  is  often  a  slave  ill  paid  and  ill  tended,  with 
none  to  care  for  him,  and  with  nothing  oftentimes  but  Chris- 
tian charity  to  depend  upon  for  his  life  when  he  is  old  and  sick, 
and  unable  to  toil  any  more ;  but  he  had  this  consolation  in 
toiling,  that  no  man  could  come  to  his  cottage  or  his  hovel,  and 
take  away  the  wife  of  his  bosom,  and  sell  her  into  bondage  in 
a  strange  land ;  that  none  could  take  his  children  forcibly 
away,  so  that  he  might  see  them  no  more  ;  and  that  none  could 
lay  hands  upon  himself,  and  make  him  toil  upon  the  land,  when 
]")  preferred  to  toil  upon  the  water,  or  treat  him  with  the  same 
unconcern  as  a  dog  or  a  horse.     Any  one  powerful  enough  to 
carry  cff  Mr.  Fitz  Hugh  and  sell  him  into  bondage,  might  ap- 
ply to  him  the  arguments  he  uses  to  negroes  and  to  white 
8la\  cs ;  and  if  he  remonstrated,  say  to  him,  "  Foolish  fellow ! 
why  do  you  complain  ?     You  shall  not  labor  more  than  nine 
hours  a  day.     You  shall  have  Sundays  and  holidays.     You 
shall  have  the  comforts  and  necessaries  of  life.    When  you  are 
sick,  you  shall  be  tended.     When  you  are  old,  you  shall  be 
taken  care  of.     Go  away  !     Do  your  work,  and  be  happy. 
When  you  have  done  it,  make  your  mind  easy,  and  sleep ;  for 
sleep  is  the  greatest  of  all  blessings.     And  pity  me,  your  un- 
fortunate master,  who  am  compelled  to  take  care  of  yoii,  to 
think  for  you,  and  to  protect  you."     If  such  arguments  are 
good  for  black  men  and  white  men  alike,  why  not  for  white 
philosophers  ? 

Are  not  a  crust  and  a  draught  of  water  in  the  pure  fresh 
air,  with  liberty  of  locomotion  and  the  privilege  of  looking  at 
the  sunshine,  better  than  turtle  soup  and  choice  wines  in  a 
dark  dungeon  ?  Let  the  advocates  of  the  new  faith  decide. 
But  Mr,  Fitz  Hugh  is  a  slave  already — ^a  slave  to  his  theory. 


F    1 


'wr:- 


258 


LIFE  AND  LIBEUTY  IN  AMEllICA. 


■•  ■ '  "  •>i*> 


■"■^:'h 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

DECLINE   OP  THE   SPANISH   RACE  IN  ABIERIOA. 

Washington,  Mnrcli,  1858. 
As  Gi-eece  was  to  Persia,  and  as  Rome  was  to  Curtlmgo  in 
ancient  days — as  England  was  to  France  wititin  the  memory 
of  living  men — so  arc  the  United  States  to  the  SpnniMli  r«cc» 
on  the  North  American  continent,  and  more  ortpocially  to  the 
Mexicans.  There  is  deadly  and  traditional  enmity  Iwtwccn 
them,  and  a  growing  conviction  on  the  part  of  the  Anglo-Sax- 
on race,  strengthened  by  i)rejudicc,  by  passion,  by  interest,  and 
by  a  vague  and  nameless,  but  powerful  antipathy,  that,  Hooncr 
or  later,  Mexico  must  be  invaded,  conquered,  and  annexed. 
And  not  only  Mexico,  but  the  whole  continent  as  far  south  as 
Panama,  is  doomed  in  the  popular  mind  to  a  gradual  incorpo- 
ration into  the  great  republic.  The  star-spangled  batmer  lm» 
now  but  thirty-two  stars  to  glitter  on  its  folds,  or  one  for  each 
state ;  but,  should  that  day  ever  arrive,  it  will  have  to  place 
at  least  one  hundred  and  fifty  stars  upon  it,  or  adopt  a  new 
symbolism  for  a  power  so  magnificent.  Nor  is  this  a  mere 
dream  of  ambition  confined  to  the  warm  South  and  the  teem- 
ing fancy  of  Southern  politicians,  who,  by  the  supposed  neces- 
sities of  the  institution  of  slavery,  imagine  that,  as  they  can 
not  extend  to  the  great  West,  or  keep  pace  with  the  growtli 
of  the  free  states  by  any  other  means,  they  must  perforce  an- 
nex Cuba,  and  the  vast,  ill-governed,  miserable,  but  beautiful 
and  fertile  regions  lying  between  tlie  frontiers  of  Texas  and  tlic 
two  oceans  that  all  but  mingle  at  Panama.  The  feeling  is 
shared  by  many  soberer  men  and  cooler  politicians,  who  de- 
plore, while  they  assert  the  necessity  that  impels  them.  Tlicy 
consider  it  the  '•  manifest  destiny"  of  the  Saxon,  Anglo-Si'xon, 
and  Scandinavian  race — for  these  arc  but  one  in  their  origin 
— to  drive  out  the  degenerate  Spaniards,  and  descendants  of 
Spaniards,  who  are  about  as  unfit  to  develop  the  country  an 


DECLINE   OF  TUE  SPANISH   HACK  IN   AMERICA.   259 


4. 

•h,  1888. 
iirtlinRo  in 
,0  memory 
mlMU  ruccH 
ttlly  to  the 
ty  \)Ctwccn 
\nglo-Sttx- 
Ucrcftt,  ftnd 
Llmt,  Bf)oncr 
(I  annexed, 
fur  south  ns 
ual  incorpo- 
i  \)atmcr  hn» 
one  for  cnch 
iivo  to  phico 
ivdopt  a  new 
Ih'iH  a  mcvo 
m\  tho  tccin- 

►p0»cd  11CCC8- 

UH  they  can 
tho  growth 
perforce  an- 
hut  bcivutiful 
'cxnH  and  the 
I'ho  fceVmg  i» 
fuinH,  who  dc- 
ithcm.    They 
.ngio-Si'Jfon, 
|n  their  orighi 
SRCCndantH  of 
^0  country  m 


the  Red  Indian?,  and  utterly  unahlc  to  establish  any  thinjj  like 
a  free  or  a  firm  govcmnient.  And  every  year,  things,  instead 
of  mending,  become  worse.  The  Spaniards  intermarry  with 
the  IndianH,  and  produce  a  mixed  race,  with  all  the  vices  of 
both  breeds,  and  none  of  the  virtues  of  cither.  l*y  their  in- 
dolence, rapacity,  and  lawlessness,  they  come  into  constant  col- 
lision Avitli  Yankees  and  other  advcnturons  spirits  of  the 
United  States,  who  pnsh  south  to  trade  and  speculate,  and  at 
the  least  real  or  supposed  indignity  or  injustice,  clamor  hjstily 
for  the  interference  of  the  government  at  AVushington,  glad  of 
an  occasion  for  quarrel,  and  panting  for  the  spoils  of  a  race 
whom  they  despise,  and  of  a  country  which  they  covet. 

The  last  war  against  Mexico,  which  ended  in  the  annexa- 
tion of  California,  was  one  of  the  most  popular  ever  under- 
taken by  any  nation.  The  spirit  of  the  Avholc  countrj^  was 
aroused.  Farmers  left  their  farms,  lawyers  their  desks  and 
courts,  tradesmen  their  stores,  students  their  colleges,  and 
members  of  Congress  their  seats  in  the  Legislature,  to  fight 
against  the  Mexicans.  Not  only  the  youth,  but  the  middle 
ajre  of  the  Southern  and  some  of  the  Northern  States  were  in 
arms,  burning  for  glory  and  for  annexation.  Men  of  fortune 
shouldered  the  rille,  and  Avent  through  all  the  hardships  of  the 
campaign  in  the  capacity  of  private  soldiers ;  and  the  number 
of  volunteers  was  so  great,  that  the  government  had  to  re- 
press, rather  than  encourage,  the  martial  ardor  of  the  citizens, 
and  to  throw  eveiy  imaginable  impediment  in  the  way  of  their 
enthusiasm.  Should  there  be  any  new  cause  of  quarrel  with 
Mexico  leading  to  a  war,  the  same  ardor  would  indubitably  be 
aroused,  and  not  all  the  sobriety  and  vis  inertias  of  New  En- 
gland, nc*  all  the  prudence  of  all  the  statesmen  that  the  Union 
possesses,  would  be  sufficient  to  cool  the  martial  spirit,  or  pre- 
vent fiirther  conquest  and  the  annexation  of  at  least  another 
province. 

The  popular  favor  enjoyed  by  General  William  "Walker,  the 
Kinious  filibuster  and  invader  of  Nicaragua,  is  bat  one  out  of 
many  proofs  of  the  feeling  with  wliich  the  people  of  the  United 
States  regard  their  effete  Southern  neighbors.  This  pcison- 
age,  who  is  as  familiar  in  Pennsylvania  Avenuo  and  in  the 


!       I 


:;  ! 


■*m. 


;,s»sefe.,,. 


260 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


Umi 


purlieu^i  of  Congress  as  any  public  man  in  Washington,  and 
who  has  just  left,  accompanied  by  his  second  in  command,  n 
Grcneral  Henningsen,  formerly  connected  in  some  capacity 
with  the  p.~ess  of  London,  was  brought  to  this  capital  in  cus- 
tody o?  the  United  States  marsJuii  for  ^>y  ving  infringed  the 
laws  cf  the  United  States  in  Itis  Irt,^  utt«.'mptcd  invasion  of 
Nicimifjua.     But  his  imprisonraerkt  was  a  mere  sham.     He 


was  frcB  to  go  hither  anul  thitb  •;:  a;' 


t' 


;ist'<l  J    -nd  he  was 


ultimately  release*!  even  from  that  nominal  captivity  and  sur- 
veiUance  m  ithout  v;vcn  a  cautJon  as  to  his  future  behavior.  In 
fact,  Walker,  though,  by  the  law  of  nations,  a  vulgar  pirate 
and  outlaw,  was  a  popuI?Ar  person  even  In  W.jjhiigton,  and  in 
New  Orleans  and  Mobile  was  the  honored  recipient  of  enthu- 
siastic ovations.  Though  his  co'pduci.  vvls  disavowed  and 
conden/ned  by  the  federal  goverisment,  the  public  feeling  was 
Htroiig  that  it  was  his  failure,  and  not  the  attempt  itself,  which 
was  distasteful  to  men  in  power.  "  To  go  in  and  win"  would 
hare  been  admirable ;  but  to  be  foiled  and  beaten  was  disa- 
greeable to  the  government.  Failure  brought  inconvenient 
remonstrances  and  remarks  from  foreign  powers,  and  placed 
the  executive  in  a  false  position.  Walker  has  identified  him- 
self for  the  time  being  with  this  particular  movement ;  but 
Walker  is  but  a  straw  upon  the  wind,  and  there  are  hundreds 
of  others  ready  to  supply  his  place,  should  fortune  play  him 
false,  and  give  him  the  pirate's  death  instead  of  the  victor's 
laurel,  and  a  high  gibbet  instead  of  Nicaragua. 

The  present  condition  of  Mexico,  and  of  all  the  Central 
American  republics,  and  the  probable  future  that  awaits  thcra 
in  consequence  of  their  own  tendency  toward  disorganization 
and  the  rapid  increase  in  population,  trade,  and  moral  power 
of  the  United  States  of  America,  are  queblions  quite  as  perti- 
nent to  Englishmen  as  to  the  rest  of  the  civilized  world.  The 
growth  of  the  United  States  is  merely  one  of  the  forms  of  the 
development  of  that  political  and  industrial  civilization  of 
which  England  was  the  birthplace,  and  of  which  Englishmen 
and  Scotchmen  are  still  the  'eauers,  and  which  is  founded 
upon  the  greatest  period;';!  ^*'eeOom,  consistent  with  order  and 
organization,  and  the  untrammeled  liberty  of  individual  en- 


DRCLINX  OF  THE  SPANISH  RACK  IN  AMERICA.     2H1 


ton,  and 
imanil,  n 
capacity 
Bil  in  CU8- 
ingod  the 
^asion  of 
lam.    He 
nd  lie  was 
y  and  8ur- 
(avior.    In 
Igar  pirate 
ton,  and  in 
A  of  entliu- 
vowed  and 
feeling  was 
itself,  which 
win"  would 
n  was  disa- 
inconvcnient 
,  and  placed 
entified  him- 
srement;  but 
are  hundreds 
me  play  him 
the  victor's 

the  Central 
awaits  them 
Isorganizution 
'  moral  power 
luite  as  perti- 
1  world.    The 
|e  forms  of  the 
Civilization  of 
Ih  Englishmen 
[eh  is  founded 
Vrith  order  ard 
individual  en- 


terprise. Addressing  itself  to  the  elevntion  of  man  thningh 
the  development  of  his  material  interest,  which  must  always 
precede,  to  a  greater  or  less  extent,  the  de^'clopmcnt  of  a 
higher  form  of  civilization,  Anglo-American  progress  is  fated 
to  exercise  a  powerful  influence  over  the  decaying  communi- 
ties of  Spanish  America. 

Impressed  with  the  general  bearing  of  these  truths,  but 
having  no  means  of  making  a  personal  investigation  into  the 
actual  circumstances  of  all  these  quasi  republics  and  anarchies 
— as  showing  how  far  the  instinctive  notion  of  their  irretriev- 
able decay  which  is  prevalent  in  the  United  States  was  found- 
ed on  facts — I  requested  Mr.  Thrasher,  of  New  York,  a  gen- 
tleman who  passed  some  years  in  Cuba  and  in  Mexico  in  a 
high  oflicial  position,  to  put  into  writing  the  results  of  his  ex- 
perience. I  was  favored  shortly  afterward  with  the  following 
resume  of  the  subject,  which,  though  it  may  happen  to  bo  tinc- 
tured with  the  American  sympathies  of  the  writer,  is  none  the 
less  interesting  from  the  information  it  conveys,  and  from  the 
political  warnings  which  may  be  drawn  from  it : 

"In  taking  a  succinct  view,"  says  the  writer,  "of  the  polit- 
ical and  social  condition  of  the  Spanish- American  republics  in 
North  and  South  America — though  South  America  is  of  little 
importance  in  the  inquiry — it  is  necessary  to  keep  in  view  the 
fact  that  they  have  constantly  endeavored  to  imitate  the  po- 
litical example  of  the  United  States,  in  which  they  have  as 
constantly  failed.  In  this  must  be  sought  the  causes  of  fail- 
ure—causes which  may  easily  be  found.  Whenever  a  nation 
is  constituted  by  the  separation  of  itself  from  that  of  which  it 
formed  a  part,  it  necessarily  receives  a  political  impuh^e,  the 
direction  of  which  it  is  apt  to  follow  ever  after.  When  the 
distinct,  and,  to  some  degree,  discordant  British  colonies  of 
North  America  severed  their  connection  with  the  crown,  their 
first  impulse  was  to  create  a  common  centre  of  action.  The 
result  was  the  erection  of  the  federal  power ;  and  the  involun- 
iaiy  political  teiidency  of  the  United  States  has  ever  been  to 
injreaso  the  influence  of  the  federal  executive  and  of  the  fed- 
rral  Congress.  In  the  Spanisli  colonics  of  America  the  re- 
verse of  this  took  place.     Under  the  rule  of  the  mother  coun- 


^^■i^,. 


202 


LIFE  AND  LIBEKTY  IN  AMERICA, 


r 


try,  the  form  of  government  was  a  thorough  centralization ; 
and  the  old  viccroyultic»  of  Mexico,  Peru,  and  Duenos  Ayres, 
as  well  as  the  capttiin-gcneralcics  of  CI  iiutemala,  New  Granmla, 
Venezuela,  and  Chili,  were  divided  into  provinces,  or  intend- 
encies,  as  they  were  called,  merely  for  the  purposes  of  local  ad- 
ministration. In  the  struggles  which  gave  birth  to  them  as 
independent  nations,  the  political  impulse  which  they  received 
was  toward  decentralization,  and  i\\r  :ulvocucy  of  the  princi- 
ples known  in  Amerca  as  the  doctrine  of  States'  Rights. 
The  involuntary  political  tendency  of  these  countries  has  ever 
been  to  diminish  the  inlluenco  of  the  central  or  federal  gov- 
ernment. •  •  ■'" 

"Thus  movements  seemingly  identical  in  their  origin  pro- 
duced directly  opposite  results ;  for  while  in  the  United  States 
the  power  of  the  federal  government  to  repress  domestic  re- 
bellion continually  increased,  and  was  never  stronger  than  it  is 
at  present,  that  of  the  federal  power  in  the  Spanish-American 
States  continually  diminished,  and  was  never  more  impotent 
to  suppress  revolt  and  rebellion  than  it  is  to-djiy.  Other  cir- 
cumstances have  also  contributed  to  the  political  decay  of  the 
Spanish- American  States,  among  which  their  readiness  to 
adopt  the  ideas  of  the  first  and  last  French  Revolution,  nufl 
to  place  the  individual  above  the  state,  holdinjr'  that  the  state 
owes  him  an  obligation  greater  than  he  owes  to  the  state,  has 
been,  perhaps,  the  most  prominent, 

"  While,  under  such  influences  as  these,  the  political  fabric 
in  Spanish  America  has  exhibited  a  constant  decay,  the 
changes  in  social  organization  have  been  equally  great.  Tlio 
line  of  separation  between  the  discordant,  unequal,  and  infe- 
rior races  that  constitute  the  population,  and  which,  under 
the  rule  of  Spain,  was  kept  in  constant  view,  has  been  de- 
stroyed, and  all  the  old  Spanish  laws  for  the  organization  of 
labor  have  been  repealed  without  the  substitution  of  any  thing 
in  their  place.  Mexico  may  be  taken  as  the  type  of  the  re- 
sult ;  for  the  same  thing,  with  slight  modifications,  has  occur- 
red in  all  those  countries.  The  political  and  social  induce- 
ments to  the  white  race  to  preserve  its  purity  and  integrity 
having  been  removed,  it  has  gn.-.  ;illy  amalgarnted  with  the 


/ 


DECLINE   OF  THK  SPANISH  RACE   IN  AMEHICA.   263 


ization ; 

s  Ayres, 
xrnntula, 
r  intend- 
local  wl- 
U»cm  as 
'  received 
ic  princi- 
:  Kights. 
4  ImH  ever 
Icral  gov- 

irisin  pro- 
itcd  States 
)nie»tic  rc- 
r  thftn  it  is 
-American 
c  impotent 
Other  cir- 
lecay  of  the 
cadincss  to 
)lntion,  and 
at  the  state 
le  state,  has 

litical  fabric 
decay,  the 
great.     The 
al,  and  infe- 
vhich,  under 
ma  been  dc- 
anization  of 
of  any  thing 
pe  of  the  re- 
[18,  has  occur- 
ocial  inducc- 
and  integrity 
ted  with  tho 


inferior  races ;  and  the  latter,  poMscssing  a  numerical  8U|)erior- 
ity  ofi-cvcn  millions  to  unc  million  of  Avhit^  inhabitants,  has 
nearly  swallowed  up  the  white  race  in  the  course  of  the  ouo 
generation  that  has  claps«2d  since  the  era  of  their  inde{)cnd- 
ence. 

"The  consequence  of  all  these  causes  is,  that  the  northern 
states  of  Mexico  have  lost  nearly  all  iheir  white  population, 
and  that  the  unorganized  native  communities  aro  unable  to 
resist  the  attacks  of  the  savage  Apaches,  Comanches,  Semi- 
nolcs,  and  other  Indian  tribes,  who  arc  driven  southward  from 
their  old  hunting-grounds  by  the  westward  march  of  Anglo- 
Saxon  civilization.  In  the  beautiful  province  of  Sonora,  the 
rule  of  Mexico  is  reduced  to  a  few  towns,  such  as  Gunymns, 
Urcs,  and  Ilermosilla ;  in  Chihuahua  constant  sallies  of  the 
government  troops  arc  necessary  to  proteqt  the  scattered  ru- 
ral population  ;  in  Durango  the  Indians  roan.,  in  small  par- 
ties, unmolested  over  the  whole  state,  and  the  civilized  in- 
habitants have  been  compelled  to  concentrate  i.»  the  cities 
and  large  towns  for  mutual  protection.  The  grazing  districts 
of  Coahuila,  Leon,  Zacatecas,  and  Sinaloa  are  a  constant  prey 
to  small  parties  of  savages,  who  drive  off  the  cattle,  and  caiTy 
the  women  and  children  into  captivity  Ui^id  their  mountain 
fastnesses. 

"  In  the  southern  part  of  Mexico  a  similar  slate  of  things 
exists.  General  Alvarez,  who,  although  he  boasts  a  Spanish 
name,  is  a  cross  bet^^oen  the  negro  and  the  Indian,  has  long 
ruled  the  State  of  Guen'cro  vith  despotic  sway.  But  he  has 
ever  given  a  lip-obedience  to  ihe  federal  government,  and  has 
kept  the  Pintos,  as  the  preponderating  native  race  is  called, 
in  subjection.  His  own  recognition  of  the  federal  govern- 
ment, and  the  influence  of  his  name,  have  hitherto  kept  the 
other  native  races  in  the  south  to  their  allegiance ;  but  lately 
tliey  have  revolted ;  and  now,  at  the  age  of  eighty  years,  he 
is  engaged  in  a  war  of  doubtful  issue  with  the  Indians  of  Chi- 
lapa  and  Oajaca,  who  are  hounded  on  by  priests  and  plotters, 
who  refuse  to  recognize  the  present  federal  government  of 
Mexico.  The  course  of  Alvarez  in  this  question  has  pro- 
duced dissatisfaction  among  his  own  people,  the  Pintos,  which 


,  I 


264 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AHERICA. 


S 


will  doubtless  break  out  into  open  revolt  after  his  death.  In 
the  eastern  and  peninsular  state  of  Yucatan  the  savage  tribes 
of  the  interior  have  recovered  possession  of  nearlv  tlie  whole 
territory,  and  the  quasi  whites  are  driven  into  the  cities  of 
Merida,  Sisal,  and  Canipeachy,  the  capital  (Merida)  having 
been  frequently  menaced  by  a  large  force  of  Indians. 

''Amid  all  this  disintegration  and  ix)litical  decay,  the  fed- 
eral power  has  grown  constantly  weaker,  until  its  influence 
has  become  too  powerless  to  reach  the  more  distant  portions 
of  the  republic.  Ii.  the  south,  Alvarez  has  long  held  supremo 
power;  in  Sonora,  i'.io  Gandara  family  ruled  for  many  years, 
until  recently  overthrown  by  Pasquiera,  who  likewise  pays 
little  heed  to  Congress  or  the  President.  Vidaurri,  in  the 
north,  has  annexed  the  State  of  Coahuila  to  that  of  Nuevo 
Leon,  where  his  will  is  law ;  and  endeavored,  a  little  more 
than  a  year  since,  to  perform  the  same  act  with  the  State  of 
Tamaulipas.  In  Central  Mexico  a  more  formal  obedience  is 
rendered  to  the  federal  authority,  but  one  that  is  praciically 
of  little  import ;  and,  amid  all  their  party  divisions,  two  great 
principles  emtirge.  The  first  asserts  that  the  national  decay 
is  owing  to  the  decentralization  of  wower,  and  the  other  that 
power  is  still  too  much  centralized.  The  one  principle  tri- 
umphs, and  brings  back  Santa  Anna  to  the  Dictat.>rship,  as 
in  1853,  to  be  overthrown  in  1855  by  a  plan  of  Ayutla,  which 
installs  a  new  Constitution  in  1857,  decentralizing  the  federal 
power  still  more,  and  placing  it  entirely  in  the  hands  of  a  sin- 
gle representative  chamber,  that  is  to  sit  permanently,  cither 
of  itself,  or  through  a  committee  of  one  representative  for 
each  of  the  states.  This,  again,  is  immediately  superseded 
by  the  establishment  of  the  Dictatorship  of  Comonfori,  which 
may  be  overthrown  between  the  writing  and  the  publication 
of  these  remarks. 

"  Under  these  circumstances,  the  remnant  of  the  white  race 
in  Mexico  is  seeking  new  blood  and  a  reinvigoration  by  an 
infusion  from  abroad.  When  the  army  of  the  United  States 
held  Mexico^  General  Scott,  the  American  commander-in- 
chief,  was  tendered  a  bonus  to  himself  of  two  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds  if  he  would  resign  his  commission  and  accept  the 


DECLINE  v)F  THE   SPANISH   KACE   IN   AMKUICA.   266 


Ith.  In 
gc  tribes 
le  whole 
cities  of 
3t)  liaving 

r,  the  fed- 
influencc 
X  portions 
d  supremo 
lany  years, 
cwisc  pay» 
irri,  in  tiio 
t  of  Nuevo 
little  more 
be  State  of 
obedience  is 
3  practically 
[IS,  two  great 
itional  decay 
le  other  that 
principle  tri- 
ctai-^rsbip,  as 
jutla,  "which 
)g  the  federal 
[ands  of  a  sln- 
mently,  cither 
"sentativc  for 
ily  superseded 
lonfori,  which 


Miprcmc  \\ov  <^r  in  Mexico.  At  llii^  time  ho  nttpirivl  to  the 
presidency  »  .  the  United  Stntos,  and  he  declined  the  otFer. 
"NVhon  Santa  Anna  rctnrncd  to  power  in  18.');),  ho  drew  aruinid 
him  a  large  nun)l)er  of  S[)anish  oflioern  fVotn  Cuba,  but  took 
with  him  no  troopH.  It  is  paid  that  he  looks  forward  now  to 
an  early  return  to  Mexico,  and  that  he  will  sock  to  create  sev- 
eral rej^mcnts  composed  entirely  of  Si>aniards.  On  the  other 
hand,  Comonfort  ban  turned  his  eyes  toward  the  I'nited  States, 
and  anticipated  receiving  aid  from  the  ambitious  and  restless 
}5[)irits  that  abound  here.  The  experience  of  the  past,  as 
pliown  in  the  expeditions  of  Lopez  to  Cuba,  Walker  to  Lower 
California  and  Central  America,  Caivajal  to  Tamaulijias,  and 
Kaousset  de  IJoulbon  and  Crabbe  to  Sonora,  leads  to  (he  be- 
lief that,  though  these  have  failed,  they  will  be  followed  by 
others  that  will  succeed  in  the  future,  sustained  as  tiic  [lirit 
of  American  fdibustcrism  is  by  what  is  called  Saxon  "pluck'* 
and  tenacity  of  purpose. 

"  But  let  us  follow  the  process  of  political  disintegration 
southward.  The  former  Republic  of  Central  America,  obey- 
ing the  political  impulse  it  received  at  its  birth,  soon  destroy- 
ed the  federal  power  it  had  created  in  imitation  of  the  United 
States,  and  broke  up  into  the  five  independent  states  of  Gua- 
temala, San  Salvador,  Honduras,  Nicaragua,  and  Costa  Rica. 
In  Guatemala,  after  years  of  successive  revolutions,  the  Indian 
races  asserted  their  supremacy,  and  elevated  CaiTcra,  a  half- 
bred  Creole  cattle-driver,  to  supreme  power.  He  rules  some- 
thing as  Montezuma  and  Atahualpa  may  be  supposed  to  have 
ruled,  but  with  some  of  the  forms  of  a  civilized  organization. 
In  parts  of  the  state  the  government  still  decrees  what  pro- 
portions of  the  land  shall  be  so^^a  in  wheat,  what  in  maize, 
and  what  in  other  productions  of  the  foil.  Carrera  has  cen- 
tralized power  in  Guatemala,  and  peace  reigns  for  the  time. 

"  In  San  Salvador,  Honduras,  and  Nicaragua  internal  dis- 
cord has  been  the  rule  for  many  years,  and  in  the  struggle  the 
white  race  has  gradually  died  out  or  been  absorbed,  until  now 
it  docs  not  possess  a  single  representative  man.  Tlie  native 
and  mixed  races  have  triumphed  under  the  leadership  of  the 
half-breeds.      Santos  Guadiola,  the  President  of  Honduras, 

M 


i 


266 


LIFE  AND  LIWERTY   IN*    AMERICA. 


i 


partakes  largely  of  the  Indian;  niu!  ?ifanincj!,  tho  new  prcji- 
idont  of  Nicamgua,  m  u  dark  niuluttt.  Uofitu  liica,  luivinpr  a 
larger  infusion  of  white  blood,  and  tbw  nc<rr(>c!^  or  Indiunf*,  Iuim 
kept  tho  raccH  more  distinct,  nnd  tho  rule  of  the  whites  Is 
represented  by  tho  family  of  Alora.  This  8tate  has  exhibited 
less  intestine  disorder  than  any  of  tho  others  of  Central 
America. 

*'  Tho  condition  of  Southern  America,  in  as  far  as  it  is  occu- 
pied by  the  Spanish  races,  is  equally  suggestive  of  approaching 
change. 

"First  in  geographical  order  on  the  southern  continent 
comes  the  former  republic  of  Colombia,  founded  by  Bolivar, 
the  hero  of  South  American  indcpcndoncc.  licforo  his  death 
ho  was  driven  from  power,  and  the  state  followed  tho  political 
impulse  of  its  creation,  breaking  up  into  the  smaller  republics 
of  New  Granada,  Venezuela,  and  I^cuador.  Tho  first  of  these, 
New  Granada,  held  until  quite  recently  n  centralized  form  of 
government,  in  which  the  white  race,  settled  upon  the  slopes 
of  the  three  Andean  ridges  that  run  through  it,  retained  tho 
political  power.  But  the  rule  of  centralization  now  prevails, 
and  during  the  present  year  a  federation  of  states  has  been 
formed  on  the  model  of  tho  North  American  Union.  In  the 
tropical  regions  of  tho  coast  and  the  riverine  provinces,  the 
Sambo,  or  mixed  race  of  whites,  negroes,  and  Indians,  prepon- 
derate ;  but  in  the  temperate  regions  of  Antioquia,  Socorro, 
and  Cundinamarca  tho  white  population  hold  political  and 
social  sway.  Under  their  rule,  tho  several  revolutions  that 
have  been  attempted  by  the  mixed  races  have  never  succeed- 
ed, and  the  republic  has  exhibited  a  political  stability  and  ma- 
terial development  equaled  only  by  that  of  Chili  among  the 
Spanish- American  nations. 

"  Venezuela,  whose  territory  consists  mostly  of  vast  trop- 
ical grazing  plains,  inhabited  by  negroes  and  mestizos  on  the 
coast,  and  roving  white  and  Indian  herdsmen  in  the  interior, 
has  followed  a  political  course  similar  to  that  of  Guatemala. 
The  Monagas  family,  by  ingratiating  themselves  with  the 
mixed  and  black  population,  have  centralized  political  power 
in  their  own  hands,  and  kept  the  country  quiet  for  several 


DKCLIMs:  OF  THK  Sl'ANlSU   llACE   IN    AMtUH  A.   2U7 


(V  prcft- 

ttnt»,  l»w 
ir\jitc»  in 

Central 

t  is  occu- 
proacUini; 

continent 
Y  Bolivur, 
5  liiH  death 
10  political 
1-  republics 
rat  of  tbcsc, 
Ecd  foitn  of 
I  tlic  sloped 
retained  tlic 
ow  prevails, 
es  has  been 

.on.     In  ^^'° 
•ovinces,  tlic 
ans,  prepon- 
aia,  Socorro, 
,olitical  and 
jlutions  that 
.ver  succeed- 
[ility  and  ma- 
jli  among  the 

I  of  vast  trop- 
Istizos  on  the 
the  interior, 
If  Guatemala, 
^-es   with  the 
klitical  power 
It  for  several 


jtam.  The  name  ^tnijrpl«  exwts  thcro,  however,  iw  In  tno 
other  HtatCH ;  and  (ieneral  I'ai'Z  an<l  niany  othorn  arc  in  o  ,ili>, 
watching  an  opiwrtunity  for  a  now  nnoliilion.  Ecuador, 
lioing  one  of  the  Spanish  colonics  upon  Mic  racilio,  received 
lcf»f»  nlavc  importation  than  thi^  others  which  possessed  ports 
on  the  Carihlx'nn  Sea,  and  consccpiently  has  less  of  tho  nef»ro 
element  in  its  population.  Hut  the  want  of  white  immijj^ra- 
lion  from  Europe,  and  the  gradual  al)>orption  of  this  race  hy 
tho  native,  arc  rapidly  hrinjiing  the  latter  into  power,  and  even 
now  tho  communities  of  tho  interior  arc  assinnlating  to  tho 
pure  Indian. 

'*  Peru  contains  more  of  tho  negro  and  mixed  rnecs  on  tlio 
coast,  but  the  whites  still  preserve,  in  a  great  measure,  thcii' 
former  political  and  social  influence.  IJut  in  the  interior 
there  exist  many  native  communities  that  do  not  recognize  tho 
rule  of  the  government  at  Lima,  and  who  not  only  preserve 
the  memory  and  the  traditions  of  the  Ineas,  but  make  con- 
tinual forays  upon  tho  settlements  of  tho  Christian  native 
races.  The  same  decentralizing  tendency  exists,  as  is  seen  in 
the  new  Constitution  issued  recently  by  the  Convention  at 
Lima,  which  body  has  now  been  three  years  in  continual  ses- 
sion. The  possession  of  the  valuable  guano  islands  on  her 
coast  has  given  the  white  rulers  the  means  of  maintaining 
their  sway,  and  at  the  same  time  afforded  a  constant  pi?voca- 
tive  to  revolutionary  attempts  to  get  possession  of  the  govern- 
ment. In  Bolivia,  Belzu  succeeded  for  a  lime  in  becoming 
absolute  master,  after  the  manner  of  Monagas  in  Venezuela, 
and  Carrera  in  Guatemala,  supporting  his  power  by  a  monop- 
oly of  the  valuable  trade  in  quina,  or  Peruvian  bark.  A  rev- 
olution is  now  raging  there — the  attempt  being  made  to  place 
Linares  in  power  instead  of  Cordova,  a  relative  of  Belzu,  who 
is  president. 

"Chili  lies  in  a  more  temperate  zone  than  the  tropical 
countries  we  have  just  reviewed,  and  has  received  less  of  tho 
negro  element  from  the  slave  importation  than  other  Spanish 
colonies.  Besides  this,  the  Araucanian  Indians  of  the  south 
have  always  maintained  their  independence  and  a  hostile  atti- 
tude toward  the  whites.     Chili,  for  a  variety  of  reasons,  has 


X:'^ 


m^'  I V 


268 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY   IN  AMERICA. 


i' :  tei 


exhibited  more  material  progress  and  intellectual  development 
than  perhapH  any  other  of  the  Spanish-American  republics. 

"The  old  viccroyalty  of  Buenos  Ayrcs,  so  long  the  scene  of 
the  despotisms  of  Kosas  and  Dr.  Francia,  presents  nearly  the 
same  political  and  social  features  as  the  rest  of  Spanish  America. 
Lopez  has  succeeded  Francia  in  Paraguay,  and  Urquiza  wields 
a  portion  of  the  power  that  Rosas  held  in  Buenos  Ayres ; 
but  the  political  tendency  there  is  also  toward  decentraliza- 
tion, and  the  Argentine  Confederation  is  the  result.  The 
Guachos  of  the  Pampas  have  a  large  portion  of  the  Indian, 
with  something  of  the  negro  blood  in  them,  and  entertain  the 
greatest  dread  of  the  savage  tribes  on  the  southern,  western, 
and  northwestern  frontiers.  A  line  of  forts  has  been  erected 
to  protect  them,  and  travelers  across  that  portion  of  the  con- 
tinent to  Chili  still  pursue  the  path  opened  by  the  Spaniards 
more  than  a  century  af">.  So  great  is  the  fear  of  the  mixed 
races,  that  the  inhabitant  j  of  the  northwestern  provinces,  near 
the  eastern  slo;  2s,  of  the  Andes,  h?ive  never  dared  to  descend 
the  water-courses  of  the  Bermejo,  Salado,  and  other  large  riv- 
ers until  the  present  year.  The  expedition  of  the  United 
States'  steamer  Water  Witch^  under  Captain  Page,  two  years 
ago,  to  examine  these  rivers,  has  stimulated  the  desire  for  flu- 
vial navigation,  and  some  foreign  houses  are  sending  small 
steamers  up  the  Bermejo  and  Salado.  General  Taboada  is  at 
this  moment  receiving  great  praise  in  the  Argentine  Confed- 
eration for  having  dared  to  cross  the  wilderness  with  a  party 
of  one  hundred  men,  to  meet  the  steamer  on  one  of  the 
rivers. 

"  I  have  endeavored  to  present  only  a  succinct  view  of  the 
political  and  social  retrogression  of  Spanish  America,  without 
touching  some  other  questions  of  great  importance  that  arc 
being  developed  there.  I  can  not,  however,  refrain  from  men- 
tioning one  prominent  fact  to  be  observed  in  all  these  coun- 
tries, and  that  is  the  decay  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church. 
Every  where  in  Spanish  America  the  temporal  organization 
of  the  Church  is  a  point  of  attack.  A  spirit  of  rationalism, 
somewhat  of  the  French  and  somewhat  of  the  German  school, 
is  pervading  the  more  intelligent  portion  of  the  risfing  genera- 


r 


opment 
iblic8. 
Bccnc  of 
arly  the 
America. 
su  -wields 

}  Ayres; 
intraliza- 
ilt.     The 
c  Indian, 
crtain  the 
,  western, 
en  erected 
)f  the  con- 
Spaniards 
the  mixed 
ances,  near 
to  descend 
r  large  riv- 
the  United 
i,  two  years 
jsire  for  flu- 
nding  small 
aboada  is  at 
,inc  Confed- 
vith  a  party 
one  of  the 


DECLINE   OF  THE  SPANISH  ItACH  IN   AMERICA.  260 

tion,  wlnlc  the  more  ignorant  arc  relapsing  into  uncouth  re- 
ligious pracliccs  that  savor  of  paganism.  ,; 
"  Under  the  operation  of  political,  social,  and  religious  dc- 
cay,  the  immutable  law  of  races  plays  its  part  in  the  great 
drama.     The  race  which  largely  preponderates  in  number 
swallows  up  the  others,  M\d  thus  the  aboriginals  of  Spanish 
America  arc  rcassuming  their  ancient  sway.     This  fact  is 
giving  rise  to  movements  in  America  lor  which  there  is  no 
parallel  in  Europe.     There  moribund  civilization  is  F-^cking 
for  support  by  an  infusion  of  new  vigor  through  white  immi- 
gration, and  assistance  from  Europe  and  Northern  America. 
In  the  Argentine  Confederation  an  active  immigration  from 
Spain  and  other  portions  of  Southern  Europe  is  already  estab- 
lished, and  the  distance  of  those  countries  from  the  United 
States  will  no  doubt  protect  them  from  the  Saxon  overflow 
from  North  America,  and  will  possibly  enable  the  renewed 
European  element  to  work  out  the  problem  of  its  future  with- 
out interference.     Whether  it  possesses  the  requisite  qualifi- 
cations to  insure  success  I  shall  not  stop  to  examine.     But 
Mexico  and  Central  America  lie  too  near  the  busy,  enter- 
prising, and  ambitious  elements  that  swarm  in  the  United 
States  to  justify  the  opinion  that  they  will  be  left  to  die 
quietly.     Already  the  paths  of  American  intercourse  between 
the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans  are  laid  in  many  places  across 
tho  territories  of  those  republics,  and  the  natural  result  that 
has  followed  the  footstep  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  in  all  parts  of 
the  world  mi7,st  follow  it  there.     The  policy  of  the  United 
States  government,  thus  far,  has  been  to  avoid  all  concessions 
from  those  countries,  except  the  absolute  transfer  of  territory 
from  Mexico,  about  one  half  of  whose  former  dominion  is  now 
incorporated  in  the  American  Union ;  and  the  Bulwer-Clay- 
ton  Convention,  now  existing,  with  Great  Britain,  precludes 
any  farther  settlement  or  occupancy.     But,  before  the  great 
necessities  of  nations,  policies  change  and  treaties  become  in- 
operative, so  that  there  is  little  loubt  that,  either  through  the 
action  of  the  government  or  that  of  filibusterism — which  some 
friends  of  General  Walker  and  General  Henningsen  designate 
by  tlie  more  courteous  appellation  of  '  private  enterprise' — 


270 


LIFE  AND   LIBERTY  IN   AMERICA. 


the  (li8inte<'ratinK  communities  of  Mexico  and  Central  Amer- 
ica  will  receive  their  new  life  from  the  Anglo-Saxons  of  North 
America.  The  manner  and  time  of  this  operation  who  shall 
undertake  to  predict?" 

The  Mexican  pear  has,  since  these  observations  were  writ- 
ten, been  ripening  and  rotting.  Brother  Jonathan  need  not 
pluck  it,  for  it  will  drop  into  his  mouth  ;  and  then,  tlie  great- 
est of  all  the  troubles  of  the  Union — slavery  alone  excepted — 
will  begin. 


t.''^-^ 


lis 


I 


I' 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

BALTIMORE  AND   MARYLAND. 

Baltimore,  March  27,  1858. 
Maryland  is  one  of  the  original  thirteen  states  of  the 
Union,  and  the  most  northern  of  the  slaveholding  communi- 
ties. But  slavery  docs  not  flourish  upon  its  soil.  In  such  a 
climate  as  it  enjoys,  white  men  can  perform  all  kinds  of  agri- 
cultural labor  with  as  much  pleasure  and  impunity  as  in  the 
British  Isles.  Consequently,  the  labor  of  the  negro  becomes 
unprofitable,  and  white  men  are  gradually  displacing  the  black 
from  all  employments  except  those  of  the  waiter,  the  barber, 
and  the  coach-driver.  The  same  state  of  things  has  resulted, 
in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  in  Virginia,  North  Carolina,  Ken- 
tucky, and  Missouri,  where  slavery,  though  still  maintained  as 
a  "domestic  institution,"  is  proving  itself  every  day  to  be  a 
social  and  economic  failure.  These  states,  and  more  especially 
JMaryland  and  Virginia,  having  no  purpose  to  which  they  can 
proiitably  devote  slave  labor,  have  become  mere  breeders  of 
negroes  for  the  rice,  cotton,  and  sugar  plantations  of  Soutli 
Carolina,  Alabama,  JNlississippi,  Arkansas,  Tennessee,  and 
Louisiana.  In  states  like  Maryland,  slavery  exists  in  its  most 
repulsive  form ;  for  the  owner,  having  no  use  for  the  supera- 
bundant negroes,  seems  to  acknowledge  no  duties  or  responsi- 
bilities toward  them,  but  breeds  them  as  ie  would  cattle,  that 
he  may  sell  them  in  the  bf  st  market.  Fariher  tA»uth,  the  own- 
ers of  slaves,  who  employ  them  in  the  v  'dtivation  of  the  soil, 


'■':  IF 


BALTIMORE  AND  MAIiYIJlND. 


271 


Amer- 
•  North 
LO  shall 

*e  writ- 
cctl  not 
e  great- 
;epted — 


7,  1858. 
es  of  the 
jomniiwni- 
[n  such  a 
Is  of  agri- 
as  in  the 
0  becomes 
r  the  black 
he  barber, 
s  resulted, 
)lina,  Ken- 
intained  as 
ay  to  be  a 
especially 
h  they  can 
►reeders  of 
s  of  South 
lessee,  and 
in  its  most 
the  supera- 
or  responsi- 
cattle,  that 
h,  the  own- 
of  the  soil, 


C9tablis<h  what  they  call  the  "  patriarchal  relation,"  and  scl-  ^ 
doni  or  never  think  of  selling  thcui,  of  sejiarating  familicii,  or 
of  treating  them  otherwise  than  kindly.     But  not  so  in  the 
tobacco  and  corn  growing  states.     As  slaves  are  not  wanted, 
and  arc  a  burden  to  maintain,  the  owners  have  little  compunc- 
tion in  selling  the  wife  without  the  husband,  or  both  without  the 
children,  according  to  the  caprice  or  wants  of  i\\<i  purcliaser. 
It  is  constantly  repeated  in  America — by  those  who,  with- 
out any  strong  feelings  on  the  subject,  arc  nevertheless  of 
opinion  that  slavery  is  wrong,  and  that  it  would  have  been 
better  for  the  Union  if  it  had  never  existed — that,  had  it  not 
been  for  the  extreme  violence  of  the  ultra-abolitionists,  it  might 
long  ago  have  been  peaceably  abolished  in  the  five  states  just 
named.     They  urge  that  abolitionism  has  become  more  of  a 
political  than  a  philanthropic  moven  ent ;  and  that  the  people 
in  these  Middle  States  have  clung  to  slavery,  even  when  it  hjis 
ceased  to  be  profitable,  because  they  would  not  by  its  abolition 
weaken  or  dissever  the  Union,  or  overthrow  the  balance  of 
power  so  as  to  place  it  completely  in  the  hands  of  the  North, 
The  Northern  abolitionists  are  almost  invariably  protectionists, 
Tliey  would  give  freedom  to  the  black  man,  but  they  would 
put  shackles  upon  commerce  for  the  benefit  of  the  Northern 
manufacturers.     In  the  South  the  case  is  exactly  the  opposite. 
The  Southern  planters  would — some  of  them  say — abolish 
slavery  if  they  were  not  gw  ned  and  exasperated  to  it,  and  if 
they  saw  or  could  invent  the  immediate  means  of  doing  so 
without  ri.in  both  to  themselves  and  the  negro ;  and  they  are 
free-traders  almost  to  a  man. 

The  first  15ritlsh  settlement  in  this  paf-t  of  the  continent 
was  made  in  1G34,  by  Leonard  Calvert,  brother  of  Lord  IJalti- 
more.  The  country  was  granted  to  Lord  Baltimore  by  charter 
of  King  Charles  L,  and  is  said  lo  liavc  been  named  Maryland 
in  honor  of  Henrietta  Maria,  ([uecn  of  that  monarch.  But 
1  his  has  been  denied,  and  the  honor  claimed  on  behalf  of  Mary 
Calvert,  wife  of  Lord  Baltimore.  Virginia,  the  neighboring 
state,  was  named  in  honor  of  Queen  Elizabeth ;  and  Maryland, 
taken  jmsscss^ion  of  in  the  preceding  reign,  but  not  settled  or 
colonized  so  early,  i;^  by  others  asserted  to  have  taken  its  ap- 


'   VMpi.- ■ 


272 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMEHICA. 


pellation  from  tlio  ill-starred  lady  known  to  rrotoRtaiil  tradi- 
tion as  "liloiKly  Mary."  lint,  however  thiH  may  be,  Mary- 
land was  not  ambitious  to  rival  the  character  of  hucIi  u  ho\- 
ercign,  but  took  a  course  on  religious  matters  which  entitles 
its  early  founders  to  grateful  mention  in  the  history  of  the 
world.  By  an  act  passed  in  1639  it  granted  entire  freedom 
of  religious  faith  and  practice  to  all  creeds,  sects,  and  denom- 
inations whatsoever  within  its  boundaries. 

Baltimore,  though  not  the  capital,  is  the  principal  city  of 
this  state,  and  contains  a  population  of  upward  of  two  Inm«l- 
red  thousand,  taking  rank  as  the  largest  city  in  the  nlave- 
holding  states.  It  was  founded  in  1729.  Its  growth,  how- 
ever, has  not  been  rapid.  Cincinnati,  not  yet  forty  yearn  old, 
has  outstripped  it ;  and  Chicago,  still  younger,  has  a  popula- 
tion nearly  as  great.  But  cities  like  these  last  mentioned  are 
fed  by  the  great  stream  of  immigration  from  Eurf»p(!,  which 
invariably  stops  at  the  froz  tiers  of  slave  states,  and  Hpreads 
its  fructifying  waters  only  in  the  lands  of  the  free.  Bhould 
the  day  ever  come  when  Maryland  shall  aboli,-h  nlavcry,  the 
growth  of  Baltimore  will  doubtless  be  more  Hteady.  Phil> 
delphia,  its  free  sister,  has  a  population  approaching  to  ludf  a 
million ;  and  there  seems  to  be  no  reason,  except  Hlav(!ry,  why 
Baltimore  should  not  become  as  rich  and  po[)ulouH  m  tlio 
capital  of  the  Quakers. 

Baltimore,  famous  for  the  beauty  of  its  women,  is  Hoatcd  on 
the  Patapsco  River,  at  about  twelve  miles  from  its  jiuiction 
with  Chesapeake  Bay,  and  has  harbors  for  the  largest  merchant 
vessels.  It  is  called  by  its  admirers  "  The  Monumental  City," 
but  why  it  should  have  received  so  dattering  a  title  is  not  very 
obvious.  Of  the  three  or  four  monuments  on  which  its  only 
claim  to  this  distinction  can  be  founded,  there  in  but  one 
worthy  of  the  name,  and  that  is  the  column  erected  to  tin 
great  hero  of  America.  "The  Washington  Monument"  is  ii 
noble  Doric  pillar  of  pure  white  marble,  one  hundred  oihI 
sixty-six  feet  in  height  inclusive  of  the  basement,  Hurmountcd 
by  a  colossal  statue  of  the  pater  patricr.  It  Htandrt  in  the 
centre  of  a  square,  on  a  terrace  one  hundred  feet  jibovc  llio 
level  of  the  Patapsco,  and,  seen  from  the  river,  or  from  iu-y 


BALTIMORE   AND  MARYLAND. 


273 


trtitU- 

Mury- 

n  Hov- 

I'titillen 

of  the 

frijcdom 

ilenoin- 

city  of 
'()  \\\\ni\- 
ic  hUivp- 
tb,  liow- 
'carH  (M, 
I  popula- 
ionc(l  nrn 
pc,  whifli 
tl  Hprcudft 
.     Should 
(vvory,  tlio 

f.   rbiv- 

to  luvU*  a 
ivcry,  wl»y 
)UM  ftf»  tlic 


III 


part  of  the  neighboring  countrj',  forms  an  iinposin;^  ajul  pic- 
turesque object.  Of  "  liattlc  Monument,"  erected  to  the 
memory  of  those  who  fell  in  defending  tbe  city  against  tlio 
British  forces  in  the  war  of  1814,  the  less  said  the  better.  A 
basement  of  twenty  feet,  surnujunted  by  a  column  of  only 
eighteen,  surrounded  by  houses  ihreo  or  four  times  as  lofty, 
looks  ludicrously  small ;  and,  however  much  we  i».ay  respect 
the  motives  of  its  builders,  is  more  suggestive  of  a  pencil-case 
standing  upon  a  snufl'-box  on  a  drawing-room  table  than  of  a 
piece  of  architecture.  In  other  respects  IJaltimorc  deserves 
the  name  of  a  fine  city.  It  possesses  many  elegant  public 
buildings ;  its  streets  arc  wide,  long,  and  full  of  life  and  ac- 
tivity, and  seem,  if  the  traveler  may  judge  by  the  names  on 
the  shop-doors,  to  partake  largely  of  the  Irish  element.  Its 
principal  trade  is  in  tobacco,  and,  next  to  the  home  consumer, 
its  principal  customer  is  Great  Britain. 

I  was  "  under  the  weather,"  as  the  Americans  say,  when  I 
arrived  in  Baltimore,  and  had  caught  so  violent  a  cold  from 
sitting  in  a  draught  between  two  windows  in  a  railway-car, 
preternaturally  heated  by  a  fierce  cast-iron  stove,  glowing  red 
with  anthracite  coal,  that  I  found  it  comfortable,  if  ndt  neces- 
sary, to  retire  early  to  bed.  My  name  had  not  been  entered 
in  the  hotel  books  above  an  hour,  and  I  was  just  preparing 
myself  for  slumber,  when  a  negro  waiter  knocked  at  my  door, 
and,  entering,  handed  me  the  card  of  a  gentleman  who  desired 
to  see  me  on  very  particular  and  important  business.  The 
card  bore  this  inscription :  "  The  Eccelentisssimo  Herr  Al- 
phonso  G r,  Prince  of  Poets  of  the  United  States  of  Amer- 
ica, tD  the  Right  Hon.  Charles  Mackay,  Prince  of  Poets  of 
England." 

"  Surely,"  said  I  to  the  negro,  "  tins  man  must  be  mad  ?" 

"Don't  know— nebber  see  him  before,  massa." 

"  Tell  him  I'm  sick,  and  in  bed ;  say  that  he  must  write  his 
business,  and  call  again  to-morrow." 

"Yes,  massa." 

I  turned  round  in  bed,  and  was  trying  to  forget  the  untime- 
ly visitor,  when  the  negro  again  a})peared. 

"  He  won't  go  away,  massa." 

IM  2 


'^"^'T 


:i: 


274 


LIFE   AND  LI13P:HTY  IK  AMERICA. 


'•>f 


JiKmW'  "■■111  '4: , 


(i     II    1      I' 


"  Tell  him  that  my  name  is  IJrowii,  or  Jones — that  he  has 
made  a  mistake.  Tell  Ijim  tliat  I've  got  the  smtUlpox,  or  the 
yellow  fever — any  t'ling  to  get  rid  of  him." 

It  was  evident  that  the  negro  did  not  quite  understand  me. 
I  fancied,  moreover,  that  I  hoard  the  "  Eccelentissimo  Herr" 
and  "  I'rincc  of  Poets"  close  behind  him.  And,  as  a  last  re- 
source, I  got  out  of  bed,  told  the  good-natured  negro  to  l)c 
gone,  and  barred  and  bolted  the  door.  This  was  sufficient  se- 
curity for  the  night,  and  I  soon  forgot  all  about  the  interrup- 
tion ;  but  next  morning,  just  as  I  was  putting  on  my  boots, 
there  came  a  gentle  tap  at  the  bedroom  door.  Oblivious  of 
the  "Eccelentissimo  Herr"  .ukI  "Prince  of  Poets,"  I  said, 
"Come  in;"  and  in  walked  a  young  man,  with  a  very  dirty 
shirt,  very  dirty  hands,  very  shabby  jrarments,  very  wild  eyes, 
and  very  loose,  discolored  teeth.  He  smelt  very  strongly  of 
tobacco,  and  held  in  one  hand  a  roll  of  paper,  and  in  the  other 
a  card.  The  card  was  a  I'ac-simile  of  the  one  I  had  received 
on  the  previous  night.  I  knew  my  fate.  I  knew  that  I  was 
in  the  presence  of  a  lunatic.  There  was  madness  in  every  line 
of  his  countenance,  in  every  movement  of  his  limbs  and  body, 
nay,  in  every  thread  of  his  attire.  Having  rung  the  bell,  I 
desired  him  to  sit  down,  that  I  might  make  the  best  of  him, 
and  get  rid  of  him  with  all  possible  celerity. 

" I  was  determined  to  see  you,"  he  said,  in  v^ry  good  En- 
glish, but  with  a  German  accent  that  betrayed  his  origin.  "  I 
have  been  watching  your  arrival  for  three  months.  You  came 
over  in  the  Asia.  I  saw  it  announced.  You  dined  with  the 
President.  You  should  not  have  done  that.  Excuse  me,  but 
*  Old  Buck'  is  not  the  right  man.  He  knows  nothing  of  po- 
etry. But  let  him  slide  !  I  am  glad  to  welcome  you  to  Bal- 
timore." 

I  endeavored  to  look  pleased ;  and  as  politely  and  as  bland- 
ly as  I  could,  I  thanked  him  for  his  courtesy,  and  asked  him 
his  business. 

"  You  are  a  prince  of  poets,"  he  said.  "  So  am  I.  I  am 
the  greatest  poet  of  America — perhaps  the  greatest  in  the 
world.     Now  I  want  you  to  do  me  a  favor." 

Here  the  bell  was  answered,  and  a  negro  entered.     "  Wait 


BALTIMORE  AND  MARYLAIH). 


275 


lie  lias 
or  the 

ndme. 

Ilerr" 
last  rc- 
0  to  \)G 
:icnt  sc- 
Ucrrup- 
Y  boots, 
^ious  of 
•  I  said, 
jry  dirty 
aid  eyes, 
•ongly  of 
the  other 
[  received 
hat  I  was 
every  line 
and  body, 
the  bell,  I 

,t  of  him, 

good  En- 
I'lgm.  A 
You  came 
ll  with  the 
^sc  me,  but 
[iing  of  po- 
[o\\  to  Bal- 

as  bland- 
1  asked  him 

I.     lam 

test  in  the 

"  Wait 


n  minute  or  two,"  said  I.  "  I  will  attend  to  you  when  I  have 
done  with  tliis  gentleman."  "And  wiuit  is  the  favor?"  .1  in- 
(]uircd. 

"To  read  this  MS.,"  he  paid,  "and  give  me  your  opinion 
of  it.  It  is  poetical,  musical,  philosophical,  and  astrological. 
It  is  the  grandest  work  ever  written  on  this  continent.  But, 
sir,  the  editors  here  arc  utter  fools :  there  is  not  one  of  them 
fit  to  clean  my  boots.  They  refuse  to  look  at  my  poems. 
And  the  Prcsideat  of  the  United  States  is  no  Iwttor  than  they 
are.  lie  knows  no  more  of  poetry  than  a  pig;  and  as  for 
music,  sir,  I  don't  believe  he  knows  the  difference  between  a 
grunt  and  a  psalm." 

The  Eccelentissimo  Ilerr  here  proceeded  to  unfold  his  MS., 
which  was  very  dirty  and  spotted  with  tobacco-juice.  It 
was  covered  all  over  with  hieroglyphics,  astrological  signs, 
musical  notation,  algebraic  formula?,  and  odds  and  ends  of 
sentences,  partly  in  German  and  partly  in  Italian  text ;  some- 
times written  across  the  page,  and  sometimes  down,  in  Chinese 
fashion 

"  I  am  very  sorry,"  said  I,  "  that  I  can  not  read  your  com- 
position ;  I  am  too  ignorant — too  utterly  uninstructcd  in  the 
symbols  you  use." 

"Oh,  that  will  not  signify,"  he  replied  ;  "  I  will  read  it  for 
you.  In  fact,  I  have  come  on  purpose.  It  is  an  oratorio  as 
well  as  a  poem,  and  some  of  the  best  passages  will  have  to  be 
sung.     Would  you  like  to  hear  them  ?" 

I  fancy  that  I  must  have  looked  alarmed  at  the  probability 
of  such  an  infliction,  for  he  said  with  great  good-nature,  "  Not 
now,  if  it  will  distress  you,  or  if  you  are  busy.  But  I  must 
absolutely  have  your  opinion  within  a  day  or  two.  The  work, 
I  am  sure,  is  magnificent ;  and,  if  you  will  only  have  the  kind- 
ness to  say  so  publicly,  all  Europe  and  all  America  will  be- 
lieve you.  You  are  going  to  Europe  Foon  ?" 
I  nodded  assent. 

"  That  is  lucky ;  I  will  go  with  you ;  and  then  I  shall  be 
able  to  rood  my  poom  to  you  on  the  passage.  When  we  get 
to  London  I  shall  ask  you  to  introduce  me  to  the  queen.  I 
have  heard  that  she  is  very  fond  of  poetry,  and  has  given  Mr. 


276 


LIFK  AND   LIBERTY   IN  AMERICA. 


Tennyson  ft  pension  out  of  her  husband's  pockct-nioncy,  and 
that  she  often  sends  him  a  bottle  of  wine."  » :  ■ ; 

"  I  have  not  the  honor  of  being  personally  known  to  her 
majesty,"  I  replied ;  "  and  if  I  had,  I  could  not  introduce  you. 
The  American  embassador  in  London  would  bo  the  proper 
person." 

*'  I  don't  believe  in  embassadors.  They  are  rll  humbugs. 
They  know  nothing  except  how  to  tell  lies.  IJut  did  you  say 
that  you  were  not  personally  known  to  the  queen  *?" 

"  I  have  not  that  honor  and  privilege." 

"  Excuse  me,  stranger,"  he  said,  slowly  and  emphatically, 
"  when  I  say  that  won't  do.  You  can't  sell  Brother  Jonathan 
in  that  manner." 

"  I  really  do  not  know  the  queen,  nor  docs  the  quc<>n,  as 
far  as  I  am  aware,  know  mc." 

"  What !  the  Queen  of  England  not  know  all  about  the 
poets  of  her  own  country  ?  Does  she  not  give  ^Ir.  Tennyson 
wine  ?  And  has  she  never  given  you  any  ?  I  am  cortain  die 
Queen  of  England  knows  me — the  'Prince  of  Poets  of  Amer- 


ica. 


>  >» 


"  Quite  certain  ?"  said  I. 

*'  Oh,  qiiitu  certain/'  he  replied.  "  I  have  written  to  her 
about  my  oratorio,  but  she  never  answered  the  letter.  But  I 
shall  go  lo  England  and  see  the  queen.  Music  and  poetry  are 
properly  rewarded  there ;  and  you  sliall  introduce  mc  to  her, 
to  Lc^'d  Palmerston,  and  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and 
all  the  rest  of  them." 

"What  does  massa  please  to  want?"  chimed  in  the  ncfrro 
waiter,  who  had  been  listening  all  the  time  with  very  little 
comprehension  of  our  discourse. 

"  I  want  you  to  order  me  a  carriage ;  I  have  a  veiy  partic- 
ular engagement  " 

"  Excuse  me,"  I  added,  turning  to  the  Eccelentissimo  Ilcrr 
Alphonso,  Prince  of  Poets,  "  if  I  am  obliged  to  go  away.  I 
shall,  perhaps,  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  again — next 
week." 

"  Do  you  stay  a  whole  week  in  Baltimore  ?  Then  I  shall 
make  it  a  point  to  call  upon  you  every  day.     You  will  thus 


BALTIMORE   AND  MAKYtuVND. 


277 


1  =  ;^ 


»y,  and 

to  her 

ICC  you. 

proper 

urabugs. 
you  my 


hatically, 
Jonathan 

quc^n,  as 

about  ibc 

Tennyson 

certain  tbe 

a  of  Amcr- 


hnvc  an  opportuni.y  of  hearing  my  poetry  and  my  oratorio. 
There  is  nothir  g  hke  thcni  in  the  whole  worUl.    Stupid  Amer- 
ica! and  still  .stupider  IJaltimorc  !     But,  after  all,  it  is  not  ho 
much  the  fault  of  IJalliniorc  or  of  America  as  of  the  dough- 
face'' editor!?.     But  /ou,  sir,  must  know  mc  better.     Look 
hero !"     And  he  again  spread  forth  his  greasy,  tobacco-spot- 
ted manuscript,  and  pointed  to  a  passage  which  it  was  utterly 
impossible  to  decipher.     "  Look  here !  and  tell  mc  if  the  man 
who  wrote  that  is  not  worth  a  thousand  dough-faced  editors  ?" 
He  looked  so  wild  as  he  spoke  tiiat  I  thought  it  good  policy 
to  coincide  in  his  opinion  touching  dough-faced  editors.    If  ho 
had  been  the  Prince  Consort  of  Great  Britain  or  Emperor  of 
all  the  Russias,  T  could  not  have  treated  him  with  greater 
courtesy  and  deference.     lie  was  evidently  pleased. 
"  Come  again  another  day,"  I  said. 
"  This  evening'?"  he  asked. 
"  No ;  I  am  particularly  engaged." 
"  To-morrow  morning  f* 
"  I  shall  be  veiy  busy." 
"  To-mon-ow  evening  V 

"  I  will  write  to  you  whenever  I  can  conveniently  fix  the 
time." 

"  Ah !"  he  said,  with  a  deep  sigh,  "  I  am  afraid  you  are  no 
better  than  the  dougli-faces.  You  do  not  want  to  read  my 
poetry?" 

I  was  in  a  dilemma.  I  did  not  wish  to  tell  him  so  disagree- 
able a  truth.  There  was  no  way  of  getting  out  of  the  perplex- 
ity unless  by  humoring  him  till  the  carriage  was  ready — a  car- 
riage that  I  did  not  want,  but  for  the  arrival  of  which  I  began 
to  grow  impatient. 

For  tea  minutes,  tlir^  seemed  to  liiive  lengthened  themselves 
out  to  ten  hours,  I  had  to  play  with  this  lunatic,  to  watch  ev- 
ery change  in  his  countenance,  pnd  to  be  constantly  on  the 
alert,  lest  his  madness  f  'lould  take  a  turn  unfavorable  to  my 
safety,  for  he  kept  fumbling  with  his  right  hand  under  his 
waistcoat  in  a  manner  that  suggested  the  possibility  of  a  con- 
cealed bowie-knife  or  revolver,  or,  perhaps,  another  oratorio 
longer  than  the  first.    But  by  dint  of  assumed  unconcern  and 


f:  #■  ;• 


■  ■'  ...  ■  *i 


278 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


'w 


M  '%<   'p\ 


great  politcrc'SP,  I  mnnnped  to  parley  with  him  v  iihout  giv- 
iii"  him  ottl'MHC  or  cxrifing  his  suspicions.  When  iic  carriage 
W;  announced,  he  walked  with  mo  through  the  lobbies  and 
hall,  saw  mo  safely  into  if,  kissed  Ms  hand  to  me,  waved  hin 
manuscript  in  the  air,  and  said,  ''I  Vmorrow  !" 

On  my  return,  1  took  especial  care  to  arrange  with  the  land- 
lord for  my  future  freedom  fiDm  all  intrusion  on  the  piirt  of 
the  Eccelentissimo  llerr  and  Prince  of  Poets,  and  was  inform- 
ed that,  though  very  troublesome,  he  was  harmless ;  that  he 
went  every  day  to  the  hotels  to  ascertain  the  arrivals  by  in- 
Hpection  of  the  hotel  books,  and  that,  if  he  found  a  nniiic  of 
which  he  had  ever  before  heard,  whether  in  politics,  liter  ture, 
music,  or  the  drama,  he  sought  out  the  distinguished  stranger, 
and  requested  his  attention  to  his  poem  and  oratorio.  He 
raved  more  particularly  about  the  Queen  of  England,  and  im- 
agined that  if  he  could  see  her  his  merits  would  be  acknowl- 
edged by  all  America,  and  especially  by  the  Baltimore  editors, 
all  of  whom  he  pronounced  to  be  "  dough-faces,"  "  muifs,"  and 
"  white  niggers."  I  sfiw  no  more  of  him  ;  but  he  called  at 
least  a  dozen  times,  and  finally  declared  his  solemn  conviction 
that  I  also  was  a  "  white  nigger,"  a  despiscr  of  poetry,  and 
one  not  worthy  to  be  known  to  a  person  like  the  Queen  of 
England,  who  had  the  good  sense  to  send  wine  to  Mr.  Tenny- 
son ;  but  that  when  M.  Thalberg  (then  expected)  came  to  Bal- 
timore, he  would  find  a  man  of  true  genius  to  appreciate  his 
oratorio. 

Baltimore  is  celebrated  for  the  canvas-back  duck,  one  of 
the  greatest  delicacies  of  the  table  in  the  New  "World.  The 
canvas-back  feeds  and  breeds  in  countless  myriads  on  the  Ava- 
ters  of  Chesapeake  Bay,  that  great  arm  of  the  sea  which  ex- 
tends northward  into  Maryland  for  upward  of  one  hundred 
and  twenty  miles  from  the  Atlantic.  Among  the  wild  celery 
which  grows  on  the  shores  of  the  shallow  waters,  the  canvas- 
■feack  finds  the  peculiar  food  which  gives  its  flesh  the  flavc* '  c 
highly  esteemed.  Baltimore  being  the  nearest  large  city  to 
the  Chesapeake,  the  traveler  may  be  always  certain  dui-ing 
the  season,  from  November  to  February,  of  finding  abundant 
and  cheap  supplies.     Norfolk,  in  Virginia,  at  the  entrance  of 


FROM  BALTIMORE  TO  NEW   YORK. 


279 


lOUt  glv- 

carringc 

>bics  nnd 

v'ftvcd  \m 

,  the  lantl- 
le  part  of 
as  iiifonn- 

1,  ;    tllJU  he 

k^als  by  in- 
a  ni'MK?  of 
liter  ture, 
d  stranger, 
torio.     He 
tid,  and  im- 
)C  acknowl- 
ore  editors, 
muffs,"  and 
ic  called  at 
n  conviction 
poetry,  and 
le  Queen  of 
>  Mr.  Tenny- 
^ame  to  Bal- 
jpreciate  his 

lucli,  one  of 
IVorld.     The 
Is  on  the  wa- 
;a  which  ex- 
one  hundred 
le  wild  celery 
J,  the  canvas- 
the  flavc* '  c 
large  city  to 
irtain  during 
ing  abundant 
e  entrance  of 


CheMipoakc  Bay,  if,  however,  the  chief  cmporinn»  nf  the  trade, 
which  is  carrit'd  on  largely  with  all  the  v'xi'wn  of  the  I'niiMi, 
and  oven  to  Kuroj)!',  whither  the  birds  are  sent  packed  in  ice, 
|)Ht  where  they  do  not  U!<ually  arri\e  in  such  condition  as  to 
<:ive  tiie  epicure  a  true  idea  of  their  excellence  and  delicacy, 
•There  ij«,"  pay^  a  writer  in  the  American  Sportsunitij  "no 
place  in  our  wide  extent  of  country  where  wild-fowl-shooting 
Is  followed  with  so  mutli  ardor  as  on  the  Chesajx?akc  Bay  and 
its  tributaries,  not  only  \>y  those  who  nuike  a  comfortable  liv- 
ing from  the  busir  "t  also  by  pentlemcn  who  resort  t 
these  waters  from  '^f  the  adjoining  states  to  partici- 
pate in  the  enjoymi     ■«  <      ♦•     ijir-famed  shooting-ground.    All 
species  of  wild-fowl  coii»o  i^re  in  numbers  beyond  credence; 
and  it  is  necessary  for  a  stranger  to  visit  the  region  if  he 
would  form  a  just  idea  of  the  wonderful  multitudes  and  nu- 
racrou?  varieties  of  ducks  that  darken  the  waters.     But  the 
great  magnet  that  makes  these  shores  the  centre  of  attraction 
is  the  canvas-back,  that  here  alone  acquires  its  proper  delicacy 
of  flavor.     The  sportsman  taxes  all  his  energies  for  the  de- 
struction of  this  one  species  alone,  regarding  all  others  as 
scarcely  worth  powder  and  shot."     The  best  places  on  the 
bay  are  let  out  as  shooting-grounds  to  companies  and  individ- 
uals, and  appear  to  be  as  strictly  preserved  as  the  grouse- 
shootings  in  Scotland.     If  steam  shall  ever  vshorten  the  pas- 
sage across  the  Atlantic  to  one  week,  Europe  will  doubtless 
be  as  good  a  customer  for  the  canvas-back  duck  as  America 
itself. 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

FROM   BALTIMORE   TO   NEW  YORK. 

April  3(1,  18C8. 
In  proceeding  from  Baltimore,  in  Marjdand — the  last  of 
the  slave  cities — to  Albany,  the  political  capital  of  the  State 
of  New  York,  the  train  by  which  I  traveled  made  a  short  stop- 
page at  Philadelphia.  On  purchasing  a  newspaper  from  one 
of  the  venders  who  at  each  great  "  depot"  make  their  way 


>  '■ 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


|50     "^ 

^  m 

^   us.    12.0 


12.2 


11.25  i  1.4 


1.6 


1^ 


9 


'/ 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


> 


280 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


into  the  cars,  I  was  somewhat  surprised  and  amused  to  read 
the  denunciations  hurled  against  myself  by  an  irate  editor. 
This  personage  called  upon  the  stones  of  the  streets  to  rise, 
and  the  tiles  of  the  roofs  to  fall  down,  in  judgment  t^inst  me 
if  I  ever  presumed  to  revisit  Philadelphia.  And  what,  the 
reader  may  ask,  was  the  dire  offense  which  had  been  commit- 
ted ?  Not  much  of  an  offense.  I  had  expressed  an  opinion 
slightly  adverse  to  the  claim  of  I'hiludelphia  to  be  considered 
the  most  eminently  beautiful  of  all  the  cities  of  America.  I 
had  alleged  that  its  long  rectilinear  and  rectangular  streets, 
kept  in  r*  continual  drench  by  the  squirtings  of  water  on  the 
legs  and  feet  of  wayfarers  at  all  hours,  from  sunrise  to  sunset, 
by  Irish  maid  and  negro  man  servants,  were  neither  to  be 
commended  for  their  architectural  amenity  nor  for  their  exter- 
nal pleasantness.  For  this  want  of  taste  or  appreciation  the 
vials  of  editorial  wrath  were  uncorked  against  me.  I  wa?  de- 
clared to  be  a  person  without  knowledge  or  judgment — a  prey 
udiced  Britisher,  who  had  come  to  America  to  inflame  inter- 
national animo.sities,  and  a  person  meanly  jealous,  as  all  En- 
glishmen were,  of  the  glory  and  the  power  of  "  our  ^rcat 
country"  and  its  "  free  institutions." 

It  appeared  from  some  of  the  allusions  of  this  angry  editor 
that  a  controversy  had  been  raging  on  the  subject  in  several 
of  the  Philadelphia  newspapers  for  at  least  a  week  previously, 
and  that  some  gentleman  in  the  North  American — one  of  the 
most  influential  and  best-conducted  papers  in  the  Union — had 
been  endeavoring  to  do  battle  in  my  behalf,  to  show  that  there 
was  some  modicum  of  truth  in  what  I  had  stated,  and  that, 
whether  right  or  wrong  in  my  opinions  on  this  not  veiy  im- 
portant matter,  I  had  not  overstepped  the  limits  of  courtesy. 
My  champion  was  almost  as  scurvily  treated  as  myself.  All 
that  I  could  gather  from  the  hullabaloo  was  another  proof,  in 
addition  to  many  more,  of  the  extreme  sensitiveness  of  public 
opinion  in  America  on  the  reports  of  English  travelers. 
French  and  Germans  may  condemn,  and  nobody  cares  what 
they  say ;  but  every  editor  seems  to  care  about  the  expressed 
opinions  of  an  Englishman,  and  to  take  an  unfavorable  ver- 
dict as  a  personal  affront. 


>,'%Yi 


rROM  BALTIMORE  TO  NEW  YORK. 


281 


id  to  rcail 
ite  editor. 
t9  to  rise, 
[igaiiist  me 

what,  tho 
jn  commit- 
an  opinion 

considered 
Linerica.    I 
liar  streets, 
ater  on  the 
30  to  sunset, 
either  to  be 
:  their  cxter- 
reciation  the 
3.    I  wa?  de- 
oent— a  ^I'cy 
nflame  inter- 
us,  as  all  En- 
>f  "  our  great 


A  nntive-l>orn  American  may  nbufic  hJ.^  conntry  as  much  as 
ho  plea.se>*,  and  say  the  bitterest  things  imaginable  of  its  cli- 
mate, its  institutions,  its  cities,  its  villages,  its  men,  its  women, 
and  even  of  its  habits  and  characteristics.  No  one  is  at  all 
surprised  or  otfcnded.  But  if  a  "  IJritisher"  says  the  gentlest 
word,  or  makes  tho  faintest  hint  that  is  not  of  thorough  and 
uncompromifiing  approbation,  he  is  forthwith  brought  by  the 
press  to  the  bar  of  outraged  nationality,  and  adjudged  to  bo 
I  ither  a  knave  or  a  fool.  Previously  he  may  have  been  hailed 
as  a  hero,  a  wit,  a  statesman,  or  a  poet ;  but  as  soon  as  he  has 
published  a  word,  correctly  or  incorrectly,  in  disparagement 
of"  any  thing  American,  these  writers  ignore  or  deny  all  his 
good  qualities.  What  was  heroism  becomes  poltroonery  ;  the 
Avit  collapses  into  drivel,  tho  statesmanship  into  folly,  the 
poetry  into  doggerel ;  and  the  unhappy  wayfarer,  who  meant 
no  offense,  and  who  only  spoke  to  the  best  of  his  judgment 
and  to  the  extent  of  his  opportunities  for  forming  it,  may 
think  himself  fortunate  if  he  be  not  accused  as  a  public  en- 
emy, or,  at  the  best,  as  no  gentleman. 

Nor  is  it  always  as  safe  to  praise  as  it  is  unsafe  to  con- 
demn. Agree  with  an  ultra- American  recently  imported  or 
of  na'iive  growth  that  his  country  "  beats  all  creation,"  and 
that,  as  Governor  Walker,  of  Kansas,  once  affirmed,  New  York 
will,  in  twenty  years  hence,  be  the  political,  financial,  and  com- 
mercial centre  of  Christendom,  and  he  will  put  on  a  grave 
face  and  accuse  you  of  "poking  fun  at  him."  The  truth 
seems  to  be  that  Americans  really  desire  to  stand  well  in  En- 
glish opinion.  They  care  little  for  the  good  word  of  any  other 
nation  under  the  sun.  It  is  their  over-sensitiveness  in  this 
respect  which  leads  them  to  attach  undue  importance  to  what 
English  travelers  may  say ;  which  causes  them  to  wince  under 
censure,  to  mistrust  praise,  and  act  like  those  people  in  private 
life  who,  not  being  assured  of  the  reality  of  their  own  position, 
fmd  enmity  where  none  is  meant,  and  see  covert  depreciation 
even  under  the  guise  of  the  most  flattering  speeches. 

On  aniving  at  New  York  I  took  a  few  days'  rest — much 
needed  after  a  journey,  since  I  left  it  three  months  previously, 
of  upward  of  six  thousand  miles,  principally  by  railway,  and 


i       f 


i    ; 


■  I* ' 


S-3|-i 


•} 


282 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


inclusive  of  fourteen  hundred  railc8  down  the  Mississippi,  and 
through  all  its  munifold  jKi.ils  of  lire,  Hood,  and  snags.  Here, 
at  the  New  York  Hotel,  in  the  upper  part  of  Broadway — a 
palace  for  travelers,  to  be  highly  recommended  to  all  strangers 
who  value  choice  fare,  excellent  wines,  comfortable  accommo- 
dation, moderate  prices,  and  courteous  attention — I  prepared 
myself  for  a  new  course  of  travel  to  the  noble  St.  Lawrence, 
the  Great  Lakes,  and  the  loyal  British  colony  of  Canada. 

New  York,  which,  when  I  left  it,  was  in  a  state  of  commer- 
cial depression  consequent  upon  the  un-ended  panic  of  1857, 
had  recovered  all  its  confidence.  A  leading  journal  no  longer 
thought  it  necessary  to  denounce  gentlemen  who  gave  dinner- 
parties or  ladies  who  gave  balls  as  public  enemies,  who  mocked 
the  miseries  of  the  people.  Every  thing  had  resumed  its 
natural  course;  and  beyond  the  fact  that  a  few  commercial 
firms,  once  of  high  repute,  had  disappeared  altogether  fijom 
business,  and  were  known  no  more  in  Wall  Street,  there  was 
little  or  nothing  to  show  that  the  country  had  so  recently 
passed  through  a  severe  financial  crisis. 

It  was  estimated  during  the  panic,  by  those  whose  knowl- 
edge of  the  subject  entitles  them  to  form  an  opinion,  that 
British  capital  to  the  amount  of  $450,000,000,  or  nearly 
£90,000,000  sterling,  was  invested  in  American  securities. 
The  whole  gold  coinage  r''  'o  United  States  put  into  cir- 
culation from  the  year  1'  to  the  1st  January,  1856,  is 
stated,  on  the  authority  of  the  American  Almanac,  to  be  only 
$390,895,574 ;  the  silver  coinage  circulated  during  the  same 
period  is  placed  ?.i  $100,729,602  ;  and  the  copper  coinage  at 
$1,572,206 ;  the  three  together  making  a  total  of  $498,197,383. 

It  will.be  seen  from  this  statement  that  the  difference  be- 
tween the  sums  invested  by  Englishmen  in  American  stocks 
and  the  whole  metallic  circulation  of  the  United  States  is  but 
little  more  than  $38,000,000,  or  £7,500,000  sterling.  Thus 
it  is  obvious,  if  these  figures  be  true,  that  all  the  gold  in  the 
United  States  would  not  suffice  to  pay  back  to  British  cap- 
italists the  sums  they  had  invested  in  American  railroads  and 
other  stocks,  with  the  hope  of  larger  dividends  than  similar 
enterprises  yield  in  their  own  countiy ;  and  that  more  than 


FROiT  BALTIMORE  TO  NEW  YORK. 


283 


ippi,  and 
?.    Here, 
dway — a 
strangers 
iccommo- 
.  prepared 
Lawrence, 

inada. 
)f  commer- 
c  of  1857, 
I  no  longer 
x\e  dinner- 
A\o  mocked 
esumed  its 
commercial 
Tether  ftom 
it,  there  was 
so  recently 


^hose  knowl- 
bpinion,  that 
0,  or  nearly 
in  securities, 
put  into  cir- 
M-y,  1856,  is 
tc,  to  be  only 
:ing  the  same 
>er  coinage  at 
498,197,383. 
difference  he- 
lerican  stocks 
States  is  hut 


half  the  silver,  in  addition  to  the  whole  of  the  gold,  would  bo 
required  for  the  purpose.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  oncn  said 
that  "  high  interest  was  but  another  name  for  bud  security ;" 
and  tlie  hite  panic  in  New  York,  and  the  suspension  of  cash 
payments  by  nearly  all  the  banks  throughout  the  Union,  was 
but  another  proof,  added  to  thousiinds  of  others  in  Euro|)can 
as  well  as  in  American  history,  of  the  wisdom  of  the  apoph- 
thegm. 

The  railroads  in  the  United  States,  the  depreciation  in  tlio 
stock  of  which  so  largely  increased  the  panic,  extend  over 
22,259  miles  of  territory ;  and  are  thus  classified,  according 
to  the  several  commonwealths  in  which  they  have  been  con- 
structed. The  State  of  Arkansas  is  omitted,  no  return  having 
been  made : 


-  ■  Miles. 

Maine 472.70 

New  Ilampshu'c 479. 9G 

Vermont  493.04 

Massachusetts 1,451.30 

Rhode  Island 05.50 

Connecticut 618. .55 

New  York 2,749.85 

New  Jersey 479.4 1 

Pennsylvania 1,777.00 

Dclaw'arc 94.00 

Maryland .545.00 

Virginia 1,132.00 

North  Carolina 053.00 

South  Carolina 077.00 

Georgia ..1,142.00 

Carried  forward...  12, 830. 3 1 


MilCH. 

Brought  forward ...  1 2,830. 3 1 . 

Alabama 397.00 

Mississippi 92.00 

Louisiana 290.00 

Texas 57.00 

Tennessee 592.00 

Kentucky 195.00 

Ohio 2,095.00 

Indiana 1,533.00 

Illinois 2,28.5.50 

Michigan 078.80 

Iowa 94.00 

Wisconsin 348.00 

Missouri 145.00 

California 22.00 

Total 22,259.01 


The.se  roads  are  managed  by  no  less  than  202  companies, 
of  which  the  names  and  titles  figure  at  full  length  in  the  of- 
ficial records,  and  by  a  large  and  unknown  number  of  smaller 
companies,  not  designated,  but  classified  in  the  statistics  of 
each  state  as  "  other  roads."  The  paid-up  capital  of  scarcely 
any  of  these  roads  has  been  found  sufficient  to  construct  and 
work  them.  The  amount  of  the  paid-up  capital,  and  debts 
of  the  greater  portion  of  them,  have  been  published.  Taking 
a  few  of  the  most  important,  and  Ijeginning  with  the  richest 


U 


28-i 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY   IN  AMERICA. 


and  mo8t  indebted — the  two  words  have  of  late  years  come  in 
some  quarters  to  signify  the  same  thing — it  appears  that  the 
New  York  and  Erie,  running  445  miles,  has  a  paid-up  capital  of 
$10,023,959,  and  a  debt,  funded  and  floating,  of  $25,902,540; 
the  Illinois  Central,  with  a  paid-up  capital  of  $2,271,050,  has 
a  debt  of  $19,242,000;  the  New  York  Central,  a  paid-up 
capital  of  $24,000,000,  and  a  debt  of  $14,000,000;  the  Bal- 
timore and  Ohio,  a  capital  of  $13,000,000,  and  a  debt  of 
$9,700,000 ;  the  Vermont  Central,  a  capital  of  $5,000,000, 
and  a  debt  of  $4,900,000 ;  the  New  Albany  and  Salem,  a 
capital  of  $2,535,000,  and  a  debt  of  $5,282,000 ;  the  West- 
ern, a  capital  of  $5,966,000,  and  a  debt  of  $10,495,000 ;  the 
Philadelphia  and  Reading,  a  capital  of  $11,000,000,  and  a 
debt  of  $9,200,000 ;  the  Philadelphia,  Wilmington,  and  Bal- 
timore, a  capital  of  $5,600,000,  and  a  debt  of  $8,022,000 ; 
the  Virginia  and  Tennessee,  a  capital  of  $2,500,000,  and  a 
debt  of  $3,000,000;  the  Kentucky  Central,  a  capital  of 
$1,300,000,  and  a  debt  of  $2,235,000;  the  Central  Ohio,  a 
capital  of  $1,521,000,  and  a  debt  of  $3,485,000 ;  the  New 
Jersey  Central,  a  capital  of  $2,000,000,  and  a  debt  of 
$2,266,000 ;  the  Michigan  South  and  North  Indiana,  a  cap- 
ital of  $6,929,000,  and  a  debt  of  $6,319,000.  All  the  Amer- 
ican railroads  are  constructed  at  a  much  cheaper  rate  than 
those  of  Great  Britain.  Land  is  cheap,  law  is  cheap,  and  no 
show  is  made  by  the  erection  of  monster  stations  in  the  cities, 
or  of  stations  with  the  least  pretense  to  architectural  beauty 
in  the  minor  towns  or  villages.  The  cars  are  all  first-class, 
but  of  a  construction  very  little  superior  to  second-class  car- 
riages in  England,  and  much  inferior  to  second-class  carriages 
in  France  and  Germany.  Yet  the  competition  among  the 
various  lines  is  so  keen,  that  fares  are,  in  a  great  number  of 
instances,  reduced  far  below  the  remunerative  point. 

Another  and  very  important  reason  why  American  rail- 
roads do  not  pay,  notwithstanding  their  cheapness  of  con- 
struction, is  not  sufficiently  known  in  England  to  the  capital- 
ists who  have  advanced  their  money  to  make  them  ;  it  is,  that 
there  appears  to  be  no  sufficient,  or  any  efficient  check  upon 
the  accounts.     The  stations,  or  stopping-places,  are  not  wall- 


ft  come  in 
}  that  the 

capitnl  of 
;,902,540; 
1,050,  has 

a  paid-up 
I ;  the  Ba\- 

a  debt  of 
^5,000,000, 
id  Salem,  a 
;  theWcst- 
95,000;  the 
1,000,  and  a 
on,  and  Bal- 
$8,022,000; 
0,000,  and  a 
a  capital  of 
ntral  Ohio,  a 
00 ;  the  New 
d  a  debt  of 
idiana,  a  cap- 
M\  the  Amer- 
,per  rate  than 

cheap,  and  no 

,3  in  the  cities, 
ctural  beauty 
all  first-class, 

lond-class  car- 
class  carriages 

ion  among  the 

eat  number  of 

point, 
merican  rail- 

lapness  of  con- 
to  the  capital- 

liem  ;  it  '^^,  ^^^^ 
,nt  check  upon 
^,  are  not  wall- 


FROM   BALTIMORE  TO  NEW   YORK.  285 

cd  in  as  with  us ;  the  taking  of  a  ticket  is  not  impcnitivo 
upon  the  traveler,  though  ho  who  enters  n  train  without  n 
ticket  has  to  pay  ten  per  cent,  excess  to  the  conductor.  The 
great  fault  is  that  there  ia  no  check  upon  the  conductor.  He 
travels  with  the  train  all  the  way,  collects  the  tickets  and  the 
money,  and  if  he  be  dishonest  can  put  into  his  own  pocket  all 
the  cash  that  has  come  into  his  hands.  A  conductor  of  this 
kind  was  threatened  with  dismissal  by  the  directors  of  a  line. 
"  You  are  foolish  to  dismiss  me,"  he  replied.  "  I  have  got 
my  gold  watch,  my  chain,  my  diamond  pin,  and  my  fair  lady. 
If  you  turn  me  away,  the  next  man  will  have  to  get  these 
things  at  your  expense.     Better  let  me  stop." 

To  turn  to  the  Banks.     At  the  end  of  the  year  1855  and* 
the  beginning  of  1856  the  number  of  Banks  in  the  States  of 
the  Union  was  139G,  whose  conditions  and  operations  at  that 
time  arc  thus  stated : 

Capital $343,874,272 

Specie  Funds 19,937,710 

Specie C9,314,0G3 

Circulation  of  Notes  from  one  dollar  upward  195, 747,G62 

Loans  and  Discounts 634,183,280 

Stocks  (Railroad  and  other) 40,485,215 

Real  Estate 20,805,867 

Other  Investments. 8,822,516 

Deposits 12,705,662 

A  few  additional  figures,  without  comment,  will  show  what 
a  vast  amount  of  wealth  is  produced  in  America,  and  how 
soon  such  a  countiy  will  be  enabled  to  right  itself  after  a 
financial  squall.  Its  exports,  under  the  several  heads  of 
"Productions  of  the  Sea,"  "The  Forest,"  "Agriculture,"  and 
"Manufactures,"  amounted  in  the  year  1852  to  $192,368,984, 
and  in  the  year  1855  to  $246,708,553.  The  imports  from 
foreign  countries  in  1855  amounted  to  $261,468,520.  The 
American  tonnage  engaged  in  the  foreign  trade,  and  entered 
in  American  ports  for  that  year,  was  3,861,391  tons,  and  the 
foreign  tonnage,  2,083,948  tons.  In  the  same  year  the  United 
States  exported  1,008,421,610  lbs.  of  cotton,  at  the  average 
price  of  8.74  cents  (4^c?.)  per  lb.;  52,250  tierces  of  rice; 
150,213  hogsheads  of  tobacco:  and  breadstuffs  to  the  value 


I  ^    1 


286 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


of  $38,895,348.  In  the  year  1855  there  were  built  and 
launched  from  American  ports  381  ships  and  barks,  126  brign, 
G05  8chooncr^(,  609  sloops  and  canal-boats,  and  243  steam- 
vessels  :  a,  total  of  2024  vessels,  with  a  tonnage  of  583,450 
tons.  Of  the  whole  tonnage  of  the  United  States,  770,285  is 
engaged  in  steam  navigation,  186,773  in  the  whale  fishery, 
102,928  in  the  cod-fishery,  2,491,108  in  the  coasting  trade, 
and  21,205  in  the  mackerel  fishery.  The  crews  of  American 
vessels  entered  in  the  same  year  were  137,808,  of  whom  only 
557  were  boys ;  and  of  foreign  vessels,  100,807,  of  whom  91(j 
were  boys.  The  sales  of  public  lands  by  the  United  States 
government,  principally  in  the  West,  the  great  resort  of  emi- 
grants from  the  "  Old  Country,"  as  it  is  fondly  called,  has 
greatly  fluctuated  within  twenty  years.  In  1836  the  sales 
amounted  to  upward  of  twenty  millions  of  acres,  the  i)rico 
received  by  the  government  being  twenty-five  millions  of  dol- 
lars. In  1837  the  sales  dropped  to  5,600,000  acres.  The 
years  from  1851  to  1855  inclusive  show  the  following  re- 
sults : 

Acres  sold.  Dollars. 

1861 1,846,817 2,390,947 

1852 1,653,071 1,976,658 

1853 1,083,495 1,804,653 

1864 7,035,735 9,000,211 

1866 16,729,524 11,248,301 

These  figures  will  suffice  to  throw  some  light,  to  those  who 
attentively  peruse  them,  on  the  present  as  well  as  on  the 
future  of  the  United  States,  which  have  within  them  all  the 
elements  of  power,  greatness,  and  prosperity  in  a  far  greater 
degree  than  any  other  empire.  Great  Britain  not  excepted. 

By  the  seventh  and  last  census  of  the  United  States,  taken 
in  1850,  the  total  white  population  of  the  thirty-two  states, 
the  District  of  Columbia,  and  the  territories  not  yet  admitted 
as  states  into  the  Union,  was  19,533,068.  In  addition  to 
these  were  433,643  free  blacks,  and  3,204,347  slaves,  making 
a  total  population  of  23,171,058.  w 

In  1790  the  total  population  was  3,929,872,  or,  in  round 
numbers,  4,000,000.  In  1850  it  was  upward  of  23,000,000, 
as  above  stated,  or  a  more  than  five-fold  increase.     In  1790 


built  and 

1*26  brig)', 
143  Bteam- 
of  583,450 

770,285  Is 
alo  fishery, 
sting  trade, 
[)f  American 
'  wliom  only 
)f  whom  910 
Inited  States 
esort  of  emi- 
y  called,  lias 
136  the  sales 
res,  the  price 
lillions  of  dol- 
)  acres.    "The 

following  re- 

2,390,947 

1,975,658 

1,804,653 

9,000,211 

1,24:8,301 

,  to  those  who 
ell  as  on  the 
them  all  the 
a  far  greater 
jt  excepted. 
|d  States,  taken 
Lrty-two  states, 
jt  yet  admitted 
Rn  addition  to 
slaves,  making 

I2,  or,  in  round 
1  of  23,000,000, 
sase.     la  1790 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE,  ART,  AND  SCIENCE.      287 

the  slaves  amounted  to  097,897,  and  in  1850  to  3,204,313, 
or  rather  under  a  five-fold  increase.  But  when  we  take  into 
account  that  the  white  population,  within  the  last  twenty 
years,  and  especially  for  the  two  or  three  years  preceding  1850, 
was  augmented  by  a  vast  immignition  from  Europe,  from  Ire- 
land and  Liverpool  alone  amounting  to  upward  of  1000  per 
day,  and  that  during  that  period  the  slave  population  was  only 
augmented  by  its  natural  increase,  we  must  come  to  the  con- 
clusion that  the  black  race  thrives  better  than  the  white  in 
America. 


I  : 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

AMERICAN   LITERATURE,   ART,   AND    SCIENCE. 

Now  York. 

The  British  faces,  transplanted  to  America,  had  scarcely 
concluded  their  earliest  wars  with  the  aborigines  when  the 
literary  spirit  began  to  manifest  itself  among  them ;  and  al- 
though the  struggle  for  independence  so  gallantly  fought  and 
80  nobly  concluded  was  unfavorable  to  any  other  literature 
than  that  of  the  newspaper  and  the  political  pamphlet,  the 
United  States  produced  some  authors  of  repute  even  while  they 
were  yet  colonies  of  Great  Britain.  The  most  noted,  if  not 
the  best  English  grammar  ever  written,  and  which  has  not 
yet  been  superseded  on  either  side  of  the  Atlantic — that  of 
Lindley  Murray — was  the  work  of  a:,  .\merican  of  that  early 
period ;  and  Franklin  was  a  name  both  in  literature  and  in 
science  before  it  became  a  name  in  politics  and  diplomacy. 

The  ppogi'ess  of  Time  and  the  consolidation  of  civilization 
in  the  elder  commonwealths  of  the  Union,  such  as  Pennsyl- 
vania, Massachusetts,  Connecticut,  and  the  New  England 
States,  together  with  the  diffusion  of  education  among  the 
whole  people — not  as  a  charity  and  as  a  dole,  but  as  the  in- 
herent and  sacred  right  of  every  American  child — led  natu- 
rally to  the  growth  of  a  literary  taste  and  to  the  encourage- 
ment of  literary  genins.  Though  for  a  long  period  the  Amer- 
icans were  too  bountifully  supplied  with  the  literature  of  En- 


288 


LIFE  AND   LIBEKTY  IN  AMKRICA. 


1" 

m 


gland  to  bestow  adequate  encouragement  upon  the  authors  of 
their  own  land,  and  though  American  book»ellcr8  flourished 
too  luxuriantly  upon  the  brains  of  English  genius  to  give  any 
thing  but  the  cold  shoulder  and  the  averted  look  to  any  na- 
tive talent  that  claimed  to  be  i)aid,  a  change  was  gradually 
wrought. 

•  For  the  last  quarter  of  a  century  the  United  States  have 
produced  as  many  eminent  poets,  historians,  philosophers,  and 
essayists  as  Great  Britain  herself.  In  every  department  of  lit- 
erature Americans  have  entered  the  lists  of  Fame,  and  com- 
peted for  the  prizes,  and  no  one  can  say  that  thoy  have  com- 
peted in  vain,  or  failed  to  pay  back  to  England  a  portion  of 
the  delight  and  instruction  which  our  modern  as  well  as  our 
ancient  literature,  like  a  beneficent  fountain  on  the  wayside, 
has  atibrded  to  all  who  chose  to  drink  of  her  gushing  waters. 
In  their  poetry,  which  was  formerly  but  little  more  than  a 
faint  echo  of  the  poetry  of  the  old  land,  the  Americans  lliave 
imbued  themselves  with  the  color  and  with  the  spirit  of  their 
own  clime,  and,  in  growing  more  national,  have  become  more 
original.  And  it  will  show  alike  the  newness  of  the  poetic 
genius  of  the  United  States,  and  how  much  has  been  done  in 
a  short  time,  if  we  recall  the  fact  that  all  the  great  poets  whom 
America  has  produced  are  living  men,  and  some  of  them  still 
in  the  prime  of  their  lives  and  the  vernal  efflorescence  of  their 
powers.  Bryant,  Longfellow,  Dana,  Lowell,  Halleck,  Whit- 
tier,  Emerson,  Holmes,  Stoddard,  and  others,  as  familiar  by 
their  names  and  writings  to  Englishmen  as  to  Americans,  are 
still  in  the  land  of  the  living ;  and  even  the  Nestor  of  the  choir, 
Bryant,  has  not  wholly  ceased  to  sing.  All  these  poets,  it  may 
be  observed,  are  men  of  the  free  North. 

The  South,  with  its  lovely  climate,  its  balmy  skies,  its  mag- 
nolia j^roves,  and  the  abundant  leisure  of  its  aristocratic  white 
population,  has  not  yet  produced  any  poet  whose  name  is  wor- 
thy to  be  enrolled  among  those  above  cited ;  or  if  it  have,  he 
blushes  unseen,  and  his  merits  are  unknown  to  the  reading 
public  both  in  the  Old  World  and  the  New.  It  is  not,  how- 
ever, to  be  asserted  without  qualification  that  slavery  is  the 
cause  of  this.    But  it  is,  at  all  events,  singular  to  remark,  that, 


AMERICAN  UTERATURB,  ART,  AND  flClKNCK.     289 


autViom  of 
t  flourished 

Lo  give  «"»y 

to  liny  iia- 

8  gradually 

States  have 
sophcr?,  und 
•tmcnt  of  lit- 
nc,  and  cora- 
>y  luivo  com- 

u  portion  of 
,s  well  US  our 

the  wayside, 
ishing  waters. 

more  than  a 
mericana  ]iave 
;  spirit  of  their 
8  become  more 
s  of  the  poetic 
been  done  in 
3at  poets  whom 

no  of  them  still 

escence  of  their 

Halleck,  Whit- 
as  familiar  hy 

Americans,  are 
ior  of  the  choir, 
se  poets,  it  may 


except  in  the  literature  of  their  ncwgpapcni,  the  hIuvo  Rtatcn 
do  not  compete  with  the  litcniry  genius  of  the  North,  and  that 
they  have  as  yet  but  few  authors,  and  that  thcito  few  are  not  of 
the  highest  cUiss.  ■  .    i    ,V'.it*  *'^ 

America  is  even  more  distinguished  for  it^  great  historians 
tlian  for  its  poets.  Such  men  as  Prcscott,  Bancroft,  Ticknor, 
Motley,  and  Washington  Irving  have  not  only  conferred  hon- 
or u{)on  the  land  of  their  birth,  but  on  the  language  in  which 
they  have  written.  The  same  may  be  said  of  such  novelists 
and  essayists  as  Cooper,  Hawthorne,  Emerson,  and  Channing; 
and,  indeed,  of  many  more  whoso  names  will  readily  suggest 
themselves  to  all  who  are  conversant  with  the  current  books 
and  intellectual  activities  of  our  age.  And,  under  every  as- 
pect of  literature,  America  is  bravely  doing  its  part  to  main- 
tain the  ancient  reputation  of  the  language  which  it  is  its  priv- 
ilege to  have  inherited ;  that  noble  language  which,  above  all 
others  now  spoken  or  written  in  the  world,  gives  expression 
to  the  best  hopes  and  highest  aspirations  of  mankind.  Brit- 
ish and  American  literature  are  twin  branches  of  the  same 
lordly  and  wide-spreading  tree,  under  the  shadow  of  which 
every  man  can  not  only  speak,  but  print  and  publish  his  free 
thoughts.  There  is  no  other  language  spoken  cither  in  Eu- 
rope or  in  America  which  has  a  living  literature,  unless  it  be 
the  literature  of  the  brothel,  as  in  France,  and  that  of  meta- 
physics and  theology,  as  in  Germany. 

In  the  English  language  only  can  the  great  thoughts  with 
which  the  heart  of  the  world  is  heaving  be  freely  expressed, 
and  those  searching  inquiries  into  all  subjects  of  human 
thought  and  speculation  —  political,  philosophical,  and  the- 
ological— -^v'hich  signalize  our  time,  be  carried  on  to  any  avail- 
able purpose.  Without  the  enfranchisement  of  the  people 
from  the  pestilential  thraldom  and  blight  of  irresponsible  des- 
potism, it  is  utterly  impossible  for  a  wholesome  and  fruitful 
literature  to  take  root.  The  languages  of  France,  Italy,  and 
Spain,  once  so  prolific  in  poetry,  history,  biography,  romance, 
and  philosophy,  retain  the  works  of  by-gone  authors ;  for  ty- 
rants fortunately,  however  tyrannical  and  mighty  they  may  be, 
can  not  destroy  a  book  that  has  once  been  published;  but 

N 


290 


LIFK  AND   MHEKTY    IN   AMKKICA, 


I 


these  Inngungen  prodiico  notliing  new  for  the  delight  of  tho 
world.  They  arc  loft  in  nrrcur  with  the  iiitclligcnoo  of  the 
age,  and  can  only  keep  pace  with  the  progress  of  a  more  gen- 
erous and  expansive  literature  by  trunshitioiis  of  Huch  master- 
pieces of  genius  as  appear  in  the  English  language.  •  *  . 

Where  treason  may  lurk  in  a  song,  where  heresy  may  leaven 
a  history  or  a  romance,  and  where  a  logical  argiunent  sub- 
versive of  the  illogical  arguments  upon  which  a  throne  may 
have  been  founded  may  be  traced  hi  a  treat ii9c  upon  electricity, 
in  a  grammar,  a  sermon,  or  even  a  dictionary,  and  where  the 
caprice  or  the  passion  of  one  fallible  or  perha[)s  insane  man, 
and  not  law  or  justice,  has  to  decide  what  is  treason,  what  is 
heresy,  and  what  is  sound  philosophy,  how  is  it  possible  for 
poetry,  histoiy,  romance  or  philosophy  to  exist  ?  The  horses 
of  Apollo's  chariot  can  neither  draw  the  state  carriage  of  nn 
autocrat  nor  the  omnibus  of  a  vulgar  crowd.  The  winged 
steeds  are  free,  and  to  submit  them  to  thraldom  is  as  fatal  ns 
to  send  them  to  the  knacker's.  Without  liberty  poetry  be- 
comes more  jingle,  history  a  lie,  romance  the  pimp  and  the 
pander  of  licentiousness,  metaphysics  practical  atheism,  and 
theology  the  text-book  of  superstition. 

Having  so  great  a  language  and  such  great  ideas  and  duties 
in  common,  it  is  much  to  be  deplored  that  the  two  kindred  na- 
tions on  the  east  and  the  west  of  the  Atlantic  should  not  yet 
have  devised  the  means  of  establii?hing  an  identity  of  interest 
in  the  productions  of  contemporary  literature.  The  federal 
government,  as  if  it  were  actuated  by  the  thoughts,  the  feel- 
ings, and  the  calculations  of  a  trader  and  dealer  in  books,  and 
not  with  those  of  the  living  and  dead  men  without  the  exer- 
cise of  whose  genius  there  could  be  no  such  things  as  books, 
has  hitherto  evaded,  in  a  manner  the  reverse  of  brave  and 
noble,  the  question  of  an  international  copyright.  It  has  ei- 
ther foi^otten,  or  has  not  chosen  to  admit,  that  the  authors  of 
a  nation,  more  largely  than  any  other  class  of  men,  build  up 
the  gloiious  fabric  of  the  national  renown,  and  that  these  men, 
like  all  others,  require  to  eat,  to  be  clothed  and  housed,  and  to 
provide  for  their  families.  But  on  these  men  not  a  thouglit 
has  been  bestowed  if  they  have  happened  to  be  Englishmen. 


^p^w 


t  of  Itto 
c  of  the 
loro  gen- 
ii moHter- 

ny  leaven 
ncnt  »ul>- 
irone  may 
electricity, 
where  the 
isane  man, 
an,  what  \^ 
possible  for 
The  horses 
rringc  of  an 
rhe  winged 
s  as  fatal  as 
y  poetry  he- 
imp  an^  t^'^ 
atheism,  and 

as  and  duties 
o  kindred  na- 
hould  not  yet 
tty  of  interest 
The  federal 
ghts,  the  feel- 
in  books,  and 
iout  the  excv- 
lings  as  books, 
of  brave  and 
,t.     It  has  ci- 
the  authors  of 
men,  buUd  up 
^hat  these  men, 
[housed,  and  to 
not  a  thought 
Englishmen. 


AUEltlCAN   LITERATURE,  ART,  AND  8CIENI  K.     2«1 

Much  hofl  been  naiil  of  the  dcandnl  and  diftgmco  that  would 
attach  to  both  if  son  and  father  bIiouKI  ever  go  to  wur;  but 
thousands  who  thua  sfwnk  and  write  do  not  connidur  what  a 
pcaco-niakcr  literature  i.x,  and  that  if  an  American  author  hud 
i\  legal  copyright  in  England  and  an  KngliMh  author  .\  logul 
copyright  in  America,  the  very  best  and  wiscj^t  men  of  both 
niitions  wouhl  bo  pcaco-preacherH  and  {)cacc-makers,  and  fuse 
in  the  mighty  alchemy  of  tlu'ir  genius  all  the  hctcrogcncoua 
ideas  that  would  militato  against  the  porptunl  friendship  of 
two  great  states  with  a  l)ond  like  this  to  unite  them. 

It  is  to  be  hoiKsd  that  tho  day  will  come  when  the  federal 
government  will  bo  bold  enough  to  look  at  this  question  in  its 
proper  light,  and  cease  to  nuiko  itself  the  mere  partisan  of  pi- 
ratical booksellers,  and  of  tho  very  lowest  and  most  mcrcenaiy 
influences  of  tho  shop.  But  as  it  is  beginning  to  bo  apparent 
in  America  that  American  authors  would  gain  quite  ns  large- 
ly in  England  as  English  authors  would  {^ dn  in  America  by 
tho  establishment  of  a  system  worthy  alike  of  the  civilization 
and  the  relationship  of  tho  two  countries,  the  probabilities  in- 
crease that  tho  bookselling  interest  will  bo  made  to  know  its 
true  place,  and  that  the  author,  both  British  and  American, 
will  receive  his  duo.  And  let  no  one  undervalue  the  impor- 
tance of  the  question,  or  affect  to  treat  it  as  one  in  which  au- 
thors alone  aro  interested.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  a  question 
affecting,  moro  or  less,  the  whole  policy  of  both  nations,  and 
one  which,  if  carried,  would  be  of  more  real  and  enduring  ef- 
ficacy than  any  treaty  of  peace  and  frirndship  which  diploma- 
tists could  frame  or  governments  establish.  It  must  be  ob- 
served, too,  in  reference  to  this  subject,  that  no  impediment 
exists  on  the  part  of  tho  British  government.  All  the  oppo- 
sition to  justice  on  this  plea  comes  from  America. 

In  considering,  in  however  cursory  a  manner,  the  literaiy 
developments  of  the  United  States,  it  is  impossible  to  avoid 
some  mention  of  that  great  and  growing  power,  the  newspaper 
press.  It  can  not  be  said,  by  any  one  who  knows  them  both, 
that  the  press  of  America,  as  a  whole,  is  equal  to  the  press 
of  London,  or  of  the  British  Isles  generally.  In  Great  l^rit- 
ain  newspapers  arc  comparatively  few.     It  was  not  until  tho 


1 

m 


>i    • . 


mpi^'- 


292 


LIFE  AND  LIBEBTY  IN  AMERICA. 


l: 

It.  1 


recent  repeal  of  the  newspaper  stamp  duty  that  such  populous 
towns  and  cities  as  Manchester,  Birmingham,  Liverpool,  and 
Edinburgh  bethought  themselves  of  having  daily  newspapers 
of  their  own.     Until  that  time,  a  man  who  advocated  the  es- 
tablishment of  a  daily  paper  out  of  London  was  considered  a 
crack-brained  enthusiast,  bom  before  his  time,  a  candidate  for 
Bedlam  or  St.  Luke's.    In  Glasgow,  the  only  place  where  the 
experiment  was  previously  tried,  the  results  were  not  such  as 
to  make  men  of  business  in  love  with  it.     Had  these  towns 
and  cities  been  in  America  instead  of  in  Great  Britain,  they 
would  each  have  had  five  or  six,  or  perhaps  a  dozen  daily 
newspapers,   besides   weekly   newspapers   too   numerous   to 
count ;  and  the  daily  papers,  instead  of  being  things  of  yes- 
terday, would  perhaps  have  been  thirty  or  forty  years  old.    In 
the  United  States,  every  town  of  20,000  inhabitants,  or  even 
less,  has  generally  one,  if  not  two  daily  newspapers  to  repre- 
sent its  politics  and  clamor  for  its  advertisements.     In  layirg 
out  a  new  city  in  the  West,  the  hotel,  the  mill,  the  bank,  the 
church,  and  the  newspaper-office  arc  often  in  existence  before 
the  streets  have  any  other  claims  to  identity  than  such  as  are 
derived  from  the  plans  of  the  architect  and  surveyor.     The 
natural  consequence  of  this  universal  demand  for  newspapers 
is  that  there  are  by  far  too  many  of  them ;  and  that  pressmen 
and  compositors,  or  other  persons  having  even  less  connection 
with  literature  than  these,  establish  newspapers  in  the  merest 
villages,  and  are  their  own  editors,  their  own  reporters,  their 
own-  cashiers,  and  their  own  publishers;  nay,  actually  shut 
up  the  shutters  of  their  own  shop,  sweep  the  office,  or  take 
"a  turn  at  case,"  as  necessity  may  dictate.     In  such  great 
cities  as  New  York,  Boston,  Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  Wash- 
ington, Cincinnati,  Louisville,  St.  Louis,  New  Orleans,  and  in 
many  minor  cities  of  the  New  England,  the  Southern,  and  the 
Western  States,  a  different  state  of  things  prevails,  and  the 
newspapers  are  conducted  by  competent  and  highly  accom- 
plished editors  and  writers ;  but,  as  a  rule,  and  in  consequence 
of  their  multiplicity,  the  newspapers  of  the  United  States  are 
far  below  the  European  average.    Of  late  years  a  marked  im- 
provement has  been  visible  in  the  daily  press  of  the  great  cit- 


populous 

)Ool,  and 

wspapers 

id  the  C8- 

isidcred  a 

didate  for 

-where  the 

ot  such  as 

tiese  towns 

•itain,  they 

lozen  daily 

imerous  to 

ngs  of  yes- 

ars  old.    In 

nts,  or  even 

3r8  to  repre- 

,.     In  laylrg 

ihe  bank,  the 

stence  before 

n  such  as  are 

:veyor.    The 

r  newspapers 

hat  pressmen 
ss  connection 
in  the  merest 
.porters,  tlieir 
actually  shut 
)ffice,  or  take 
In  such  great 
Limore,  Wash- 
)rleans,  and  in 
them,  and  the 

>vails,  and  the 
highly  accom- 
in  consequence 
ited  States  are 
,  a  marked  im- 
.f  tlic  great  cit- 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE,  ART,  AND  SCIENCE.     293 

ics  of  the  Union ;  and  New  York,  New  Orleans,  and  Wash- 
ington more  especially,  have  newspapers  which  might  chal- 
lenge comparison,  not  alone  in  commercial  enterprise,  but  in 
literary  ability  and  incorruptible  honesty  with  those  of 
Xx)ndon. 

One  distinguishing  characteristic  of  the  American  press, 
considered  not  with  reference  to  any  particular  city  or  state, 
but  in  its  broadest  aspects,  is  the  personality — sometimes  ill- 
natured,  and  often  very  good-natured — in  which  its  editors 
and  reporters  indulge.    Every  one  lives  in  a  blaze  of  publicity 
in  the  United  States;  and  English  snobbery,  which  records 
who  dined  with  the  Duke  of  This  and  the  Marquis  of  That 
on  such  a  day-; — details  gathered  by  penny-a-liners  and  Jen- 
kinses from  footmen  and  butlers,  and  not  communicated  by 
the  "  noble  lords"  themselves — is  outdone  by  the  snobbery  of 
America.     Taere  being  no  nobles  to  fasten  upon,  it  makes  a 
grip  at  political  or  literary  notoriety  in  the  male,  and  at 
wealth  and  beauty  in  the  female  sex,  and  retails  unblushing- 
ly  what  we  in  England  would  consider  the  most  sacred  secrets 
of  life.     In  England,  Jenkins  tells  us  who  dined  with  such  a 
duke,  marquis,  or  earl,  and  who  were  present  at  the  ball  of 
the  Duchess  of  Rosewater  or  the  Countess  of  Dash,  but  he 
indulges  in  names  only ;  and  if  he  have  any  descriptive  pow- 
er, he  displays  it  upon  the  furniture,  the  millinery,  or  the  sup- 
per.    Not  so  the  Jenkins  of  America.     He  goes  farther  and 
deeper,  and  presumes  to  describe,  and  even  to  criticise,  the 
female  beauty  that  falls  under  his  notice.     He  is  gossiping, 
familiar,  and  gallant,  but  sometimes  ungallant,  and  writes  as 
if  it  were  the  most  natural  and  proper  thing  in  the  world — 
of  the  eyes,  the  hair,  the  lips,  the  teeth,  the  shape,  the  smiles, 
the  accomplishments,  and  the  fortune,  nay,  of  the  very  age  of 
maids,  wives,  and  widows.     He  criticises  a  fashionable  beau- 
ty as  he  would  a  book  —  with  the  name  in  full,  and  the  ad- 
dress also.     In  short,  there  is  nothing  like  the  same  privacy 
in  America  that  there  is  in  England.     Doubtless  the  princi- 
pal cause  of  this  vulgarity  is  the  keen  competition  among 
newspapers,  which  has  gradually  broken  down  the  barriers  of 
propriety,  and  accustomed  the  public  to  a  favorable  and  unfa- 


W 


% 


iiijl 


.,.11 

'  .y.' 


294 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


vorablc  personality,  which,  under  no  circumstance,  can  be 
reconciled  to  good  taste  or  gentlemanly  feeling.  Something 
of  the  same  kind,  though  less  virulent,  has  become  obiiervable 
in  the  provincial  papers  of  England  since  the  abolition  of  the 
newspaper  stamp;  but,  with  few  and  base,  and  no  doubt 
ephemeral  exceptions,  it  has  not  yet  tainted  the  press  of  the 
metropolis.     Let  us  hope  that  it  never  will. 

One  peculiarity  of  second  and  third  rate  newspapers  in  all 
countries  is  the  number  of  advertisements  of  quack  medicines 
which  they  contain.  In  this  respect  the  United  States  seem 
to  beat  the  whole  world.  To  judge  from  the  announcements 
in  all  the  journals,  America  must  be  the  very  paradise  of  med- 
ical and  non-medical  impostors,  and  the  people  the  most  cred- 
ulous or  the  most  sickly  under  the  sun.  These  announce- 
ments, always  offensive,  sometimes  disgusting,  and  often  inde- 
cent, render  the  journals  that  publish  them  unfit  to  be  intro- 
duced into  private  families.  But  it  does  not  appear  that  tney 
lose  in  circulation  what  they  gain  in  advertisements ;  and  that 
the  business  of  compounding  and  puffing  such  frauds  upon  the 
public  credulity,  if  not  upon  the  public  health,  must  be  highly 
profitable,  we  know  by  the  experience  of  England.  I  doubt, 
however,  if  it  be  carried  on  to  any  thing  like  the  same  extent 
in  England  as  in  America. 

Two  other  peculiarities  of  the  American  press  may  be  noted, 
not  for  any  importance  attaching  to  them,  but  as  showing  the 
difference  of  manners  in  the  Old  World  and  the  New.  In  a 
land  where  liberty  is  supreme,  fortune-telling,  astrology,  and 
necromancy,  under  the  old  names,  and  not  disguised  under  the 
veil  of  clairvoyance  and  spiritualism,  appear  to  be  recognized 
and  lawful  professions.  The  New  York  Herald  publislies  al- 
most daily  a  string  of  advertisements  under  the  head  of  "  As- 
trology." 

The  following,  taken  from  the  first  number  of  that  journal 
that  I  could  lay  hands  on  after  beginning  to  write  upon  the 
subject,  and  from  which  the  names  and  addresses  have  been 
purposely  excluded,  will  serve  as  specimens.  The  fourth  in 
the  list,  who  "  feels  confident  she  has  no  equal,"  would  speed- 
ily, if  she  carried  on  her  swindle  in  England,  make  an  inti- 


:^,  can  be 
Something 
observable 
ition  of  the 
I  no  doubt 
)rcss  of  the 

)apers  in  all 
jk  medicines 
States  seem 
nouncements 
idise  of  med- 
ic most  cred- 
se  announce- 
id  often  inde- 
it  to  be  intro- 
pear  that  they 
ents;  and  that 
•auds  upon  the 
nust  be  highly 
md.    I  doubt, 
le  same  extent 

may  be  noted, 
IS  showing  the 
lie  New.    In  a 
astrology,  and 
used  under  the 
,  be  recognized 
Li  publishes  al- 
headof'As- 

1  of  that  journal 
rrite  upon  the 

Isses  have  been 

The  fourth  in 

"  would  speed- 

I  make  an  inti- 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE,  ART,  AND  SCIENCE.      295 

mate  acquaintance  with  the  interior  of  the  House  of  Correc- 
tion : 


«i 


'ASTROLOOT. 

1 1  A  8TR0L0GY  AND  CLAIRVOYANCK.— M.  B- 

J\.  her  offlce, Street,  second  block  east  of  the  Bowery,  up  occond  Htairs,  flrat 


CAN  BE  CONSULTED  AT 


door,  where  she  haa  astonLihed  thouHundd  with  her  truth  in  tho  line  of  astrology  and 
clairvoyance.    Fee  60c.** 


4tpLAIUV0YANCE.— MRS.  H ,  THE  BEST  MEDICAL  CLAIKVOYANT  IN 

\^  the  world.  Mrs.  H hiis  restored  thousands  to  health  when  all  other  reme- 
dies have  failed,  and  the  patient  left  to  die.  I»ng  doctor's  bills  and  life  saved.  Let 
tlie  wise  consider.     Khcumatitiiu  cured.     liesidcnce,  B Straet'* 


(( 


NOTICE.— MRS.  F ,  CELEBRATt:D  FOR  HER  SCIENCE,  OIVE.S  MEDIC 
al  advice,  and  can  be  conwlted  on  buainess,  marriage,  etc.,  at  her  office,  li 

Street.    She  speaka  French,  Englidli,  and  German.    N.B.— She  cures  consumption  and 
rheumatiam.'* 


aTVr  B.— WHO  HAS  NOT  HICARD  OF  THE  CELEBRATED  MADAME  P ? 

1 1  •  Slie  has  been  consulted  by  thousands  in  this  and  other  cities  with  entire  sat- 
isfaction.   She  feels  confident  she  has  no  Cijual.    She  tells  the  names  of  future  wife  or 

husband,  also  that  of  her  visitor.    If  you  wish  truth,  give  her  a  call,  at ,  opposite 

"      .  Street    Ladies  50  cents,  gentlemen  1  dollar.*' 


UT7IVE  THOUSAND  DOLLAHS  REWARD  IS  OFFERED  TO  ANY  PERSON 

J?  who  can  surpass  Madame  C in  the  art  of  claii-voyancy  and  astrology.    She 

warrants  to  cure  any  disease  in  its  worst  form,  particularly  rheumatism,  affection  of 

the  throat  or  lungs.    N.  B. — Madame  C is  the  only  natural  clairvoyant  in  the  United 

States.    All  who  are  afflicted,  in  trouble,  or  unsuccessful  in  business  matters,  call  and 
see  this  naturally  gifted  lady.** 

4t  A  STROLOGY  AND  CLAIRVOYANCK— iL  B ,  THE  MYSTERIOUS  VEIL- 

J\.  cd  lady,  can  be  consulted  on  all  events  of  life,  and  has  also  a  charm  to  bring 
people  together  who  are  unhappy,  at  G Street,  second  block  oast  of  the ,  sec- 
ond stairs  up,  front  door." 


UpLAIRVOYANCE.— MRS.  S- 


No.  —  S- 


STREET,  THE  MOST  SUC- 
\j  cessful  medical  and  business  clairvoyant  in  America.  Consultations  day  and 
evening  on  sickness,  business,  absent  friends,  etc.,  and  satisfaction  guaranteed  always, 
or  no  pay  taken.'* 

tcTl/TADAME  L CAN  BE  CONSULTED  ABOUT  LOVE,  MARRIAGE,  AND 

ITL  absent  friends :  she  tells  all  tho  events  of  life ;  she  has  astonislied  all  who  visit 
her.    If  you  wish  trutli,  give  her  a  call  at  M- 
gentlemen,  50c.'* 


Street,  in  tho  rear.    Ladies,  26c. ; 


The  second  peculiarity,  not  so  much  of  American  newspa- 
pers as  of  American  society,  is  that,  while  marriages  and 
deaths  are  invariably  announced  in  their  journals,  births  are 
excluded.  On  asking  for  an  explanation,  the  answer  of  one 
person  was  that  there  was  no  reason  except  ancient  custom, 
while  a  second  informant  explained  that  it  was  considered  in- 
delicate to  parade  such  matters  before  the  public  ;  but  how  a 
birth  could  be  more  indelicate  than  a  marriage  or  a  death  was 
not  stated. 

The  progress  of  America  in  art  has  not  been  by  any  means 
so  striki^ig  or  so  rapid  as  its  progress  in  literature.     But  the 


1.  ■.;  ., 


1.    ■  > 


296 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


k 


pi 


m 


taste  for  art  is  on  the  increase,  and  many  of  the  most  wealthy 
of  the  merchants  and  bankers  in  New  York,  AVashington,  Bos- 
ton, and  Philadelphia  have  fair  collections  both  of  ancient  and 
modern  pictures. 

The  Century  Club—one  of  the  most  agreeable  of  all  the 
places  of  resort  in  New  York  to  which  a  stranger  can  be  in- 
troduced— was  established  and  is  supported  for  the  purpose 
of  bringing  together  the  wealthy  inhabitants  who  love  art  and 
literature,  and  those  who  cultivate  art  or  literature  as  a  pro- 
fession. Here  every  night  may  be  met  in  social  intercourse 
with  men  of  wealth  and  enterprise  the  principal  living  artists 
of  rising  or  established  fame.  These,  instead  of  being  ignored 
or  depreciated  by  their  countrymen  because  they  are  Amer- 
icans, are  the  more  highly  esteemed  on  that  account ;  not  only 
because  they  are  good  artists,  but  because  the  natural  vanity 
is  flattered  by  the  proof  which  their  talents  afford  that  Amer- 
icans are  able  to  compete  with  Europeans  in  a  walk  of  genius 
hitherto  considered  above  the  stage  of  civilization  to  which 
the  United  States  have  attained. 

Among  the  most  deservedly  celebrated  of  American  artists 
may  be  cited  Mr.  Kensett  in  landscape,  and  Mr.  Darley  in  de- 
lineation of  life  and  character.  In  figure  drawing  Mr.  Darley 
is  perhaps  the  greatest  artist  that  America  has  yet  seen.  His 
outline  illustrations  to  "  Margaret"  are  equal,  if  not  superior, 
to  "  Retch's  Faust ;"  and  his  designs  for  bank-notes,  descrip- 
tive of  American  scenery,  incident,  trade,  and  character,  are 
unrivaled  for  breadth  and  facility  of  touch,  and  for  admirable 
truth  to  nature. 

Mr.  Darley,  unfortunately  for  the  art  of  which  he  is  an  or- 
nament, has  been  too  fully  employed  by  the  banks  of  America 
in  making  designs  for  their  notes  to  have  leisure  for  more  am- 
bitious performances ;  but  no  one  who  has  seen  his  drawings 
can  doubt  that  his  pencil  rivals  that  of  Horace  Vernet  in 
breadth  of  effect,  and  that  of  John  Gilbert  in  facility. 

But  it  is  in  sculpture  that  the  artistic  genius  of  America  is 
seen  to  the  best  advantage.  Sculpture — grand  and  severe, 
and  dealing  with  the  gigantic  as  well  as  with  the  lovely — 
seems  to  suit  the  taste  and  the  capacities  of  a  people  who 


AMERICAN  LITERATUItE,  ART,  AND  SCIENCE.     297 


. .  .^..-V 


t  wealthy 
rton,  Bos- 
icient  and 

of  all  the 
can  be  in- 
le  purpose 
»ve  art  and 
B  as  a  pro- 
intercourse 
ving  artists 
ing  ignored 
are  Amer- 
it ;  not  only 
tural  vanity 
.  that  Amer- 
alk  of  genits 
Lon  to  which 

erican  artists 
Darley  in  ilc- 
gMr.Darley 
et  seen.    His 
not  superior, 
otes,  descrip- 
ibaracter,  are 
Ifor  admirable 


have  BO  vast  a  continent  to  subdue  and  replenish,  and  which 
appeals  strongly  to  the  primitive  feelings  of  men  who  know 
they  have  a  great  work  to  do  and  are  determined  to  do  it. 
Hiram  Powers  has  nmdc  himself  a  name  throughout  Christen- 
dom by  his  Greek  Slave,  though  as  a  work  of  art  it  must  bo 
considered  somewhat  meretricious.    Miss  Ilosmcr  has  worthily 
competed  for  the  laurels  of  sculpture,  and  won  them.     Craw- 
ford, cut  off  prematurely  in  the  meridian  of  his  genius,  has 
endeared  himself  to  all  America  by  his  statue  of  Washington 
at  Richmond,  in  Virginia,  and  by  many  other  excellent  works. 
Hart,  who  does  not  disdain  to  make  geometry  an  aid  to  por- 
trait sculpture,  is  one  of  the  best  moulders  of  busts  known  in 
our  age ;  and  Palmer,  of  Albany,  in  the  State  of  New  York, 
in  a  higher  degree  than  any  of  these,  promises  to  be  the  great 
sciilptor  of  America.     This  gentleman  renders  the  female 
figure  in  immortal  stone  in  a  manner  that  not  even  our  own 
E.  H.  Baily,  who  gave  the  world  "  Eve  at  the  Fountain,"  has 
excelled.     This  artist  seems  not  to  have  derived  from  Greece 
or  Italy,  but  from  natural  intuition  and  patient  study  at 
home,  the  mental  conception  and  the  manual  dexterity  whicli 
have  already  enriched  his  native  land  with  many  admirable 
pieces  of  sculpture.    His  figure  of  a  Puritan  girl,  the  daughter 
of  one  of  the  early  settlers,  stripped  and  tied  to  the  stake  pre- 
paratory to  her  cremation  by  the  savages — a  figure  in  which 
innocence,  modesty,  beauty,  supplication,  and  horror  are  inex- 
tricably blended — haunts  the  memory  of  all  who  have  seen  it 
— a  joy  and  a  sorrow  forever. 

In  science  the  United  States  have  long  since  established 
their  claim  to  high  rank  among  nations.  It  was  Benjamin 
Franklin,  an  American,  who  first  "tethered  the  lightning  to 
a  wire."  It  was  on  the  Hudson  or  North  River,  under  the 
auspices  of  Fulton,  that  the  first  steam-boat  paddled  through 
the  waters.  It  was  Lieutenant  Maury,  of  Washington,  who 
first  made  a  chart  of  the  currents  of  the  ocean.  It  was  Morse, 
of  New  York,  who  first  promulgated  the  daring  idea — not  yet 
brought  to  working  perfection — of  an  electric  telegraph  from 
the  Old  World  to  the  New ;  and,  if  farther  proofs  than  these 
were  required  of  the  scientific  taste  and  proficiency  of  the 

N  2 


t  i 


298    ^         LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 

American  people,  they  arc  to  be  found  in  the  Patent-office,  at 
Washington,  where  tliere  arc  models  of  every  kind  of  inven- 
tion and  of  reinvention,  betokening  alike  the  mechanical  inge- 
nuity and  the  scientific  mind  of  the  people.  To  walk  through 
these  long  and  well-filled  rooms  of  that  great  Museum  of  In- 
vention— to  which  few,  if  any  nations  can  offer  a  parallel — is 
to  be  impressed  with  a  deep  feeling  of  respect  for  the  practical 
genius  of  the  Americans,  and  to  anticipate  many  gi'eater  tri- 
umphs of  science  at  their  hands.  And  although  many  of  the 
models  exhibited  are  but  the  dreams  and  crotchets  of  clever 
men,  and  others  are  but  the  reinventions  by  uninformed  and 
self-taught  genius  of  contrivances  previously  well  known,  if 
not  in  full  operation,  it  is  impossible  to  look  without  interest 
and  admiration  upon  the  skill,  the  perseverance,  and  the  pliii- 
osophic  penetration  displayed  in  their  construction.  Doubt- 
less it  would  be  easy  to  turn  into  ridicule  the  misplaced  en- 
ergy and  perverted  talent  of  too  many  of  the  patentees  whpae 
models  are  here  exhibited  ;  but  to  the  philosophic  mind  even 
the  aberrations  of  talent  are  worthy  of  respect.  The  steam- 
engine  was  not  brought  to  perfection  in  a  day ;  and  many  fail- 
ures must  be  incurred  by  many  men  before  the  one  man,  more 
fortunate  than  his  predecessors,  and  knowing  how  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  their  shortcomings  and  mistakes  to  build  up  the 
edifice  of  his  own  success,  vaults  into  the  high  places  which 
they  could  not  reach,  and  makes  himself  a  name  among  the 
benefactors  of  his  race. 

Much  as  the  United  States  have  done  in  literature,  art,  and 
science,  they  have  as  yet  done  nothing  in  music.  England, 
erroneously  and  stupidly  said  to  be  a  non-musical  country  un- 
til Mr.  Chappell,  in  his  painstaking  and  highly  valuable  work, 
"The  Popular  Music  of  the  Olden  Time,"  knocked  the  ab- 
surdity on  the  head  and  killed  it  forever,  seems  to  have  trans- 
mitted no  portion  of  her  musical  genius  to  her  children  in 
America.  Though  "  Yankee  Doodle"  inflames  the  patriotism 
of  Americans  abroad  and  at  home,  and  is  remarkable  for  the 
spirit  of  bravado  and  "  pluck"  which  made  the  nation  adopt  a 
song  of  ridicule  and  reproach,  and  transform  it  into  a  chant  of 
glorification  and  triumph,  the  air  is  not  American,  but  old 
English ;  and  the  poetry,  if  it  be  not  a  desecration  of  the  name 


AMERICAN  LITERATURE,  ART,  AND  SCIENCE.     299 


-office,  at 
of  invcn- 
lical  ingc- 
k  through 
sum  of  In- 
arallel — u 
c  practical 
n-eater  tri- 
aany  of  the 
ts  of  clever 
formed  and 
1  known,  if 
lOut  interest 
ind  the  phil- 
on.     Doubt- 
aisplaced  en- 
entees  whp^w 
ic  mind  even 
The  steam- 
md  many  fail- 
ne  man,  more 
w  to  take  ad- 
huild  up  the 
places  which 
le  among  the 


to  call  it  80,  is  below  contempt,  both  in  its  English  and  its 
American  version.     Their  one  great  national  song,  "Hail 
Columbia,'*  above  the  average  as  a  poetical  composition,  has 
also  been  wedded  to  music  which  is  not  American.     "  When 
Bibo  thought  fit  from  this  World  to  Retreat,"  a  roistering  old 
English  ditty,  of  the  days  when  to  get  drunk  after  dinner  was 
supposed  to  be  the  mark  of  a  gentleman,  furnished  the  air  to 
which  these  vaunting  lines  are  sung.     The  "Star-spangled 
Banner,"  another  patriotic  song,  is  sung  to  an  English  tune ; 
BO  that  the  United  States,  even  in  so  sacred  a  matter  as  the 
national  glory,  remain  without  a  melody.     The  airs  called 
"  negro  melodies,"  concocted  for  the  most  part  at  New  York, 
may  seem,  at  first  glance,  to  militate  against  the  theory  that 
the  Americans  have  no  music.     But,  on  the  contrary,  they 
serve,  in  the  minds  of  those  who  have  studied  the  subject,  to 
prove  the  truth  of  the  assertion.     The  tunes  are  neither  negro 
nor  American.     The  negroes  have  no  capacity  whatever  for 
the  composition  of  music,  and  their  pretended  melodies,  as  any 
one  skilled  in  music,  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  investigate, 
will  speedily  discover,  are  but  rifacimenti  of  old  English, 
Scotch,  and  Irish  melodies  altered  in  time  and  character. 
"Buflhlo  Gals"  is  an  old  Christmas  carol;  "Sailing  Down 
the  River  on  the  Ohio,"  "  Bobbing  Around,"  and  many  other 
alleged  negro  melodies,  arc  all  built  upon  English  and  Scottish 
foundations ;  and,  so  far  from  being  genuine  and  unconscious 
perversions  on  the  part  of  negroes,  are  the  handiwork  of  white 
men  well  known  in  Broadway.     Certainly  there  is  no  reason 
why  the  United  States  should  not  produce  first-rate  musical 
composers  as  well  as  poets,  orators,  historians,  and  sculptors ; 
but  the  fact  is  worth  mentioning  that,  up  to  the  present  pe- 
riod, no  such  composer  has  established  a  claim  to  the  highest 
honors  of  musical  art.     An  opera,  by  an  American  gentleman 
connected  with  the  press  of  New  York,  was  produced  at  the 
Academy  of  Music,  with  considerable  success,  in  the  spring  of 
1858,  and  it  is  possible  that  hereafter  the  claim  then  put  for- 
ward may  be  substantiated.     But  as  yet  the  United  States 
are  without  a  national  composer.     Until  they  produce  one 
worthy  of  the  people,  they  must  be  content  with  their  fame  in 
literature,  science,  and  art,  and  not  ask  for  it  in  music. 


i''>;  ■  ,  'I 


K.    \..: 


:  ( 


If.    ( 


800 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


■  I.JV 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

PARnES   AND  PARTY  TYRANNY. 

New  York. 

There  being  no  great  and  self-supporting  forces  in  sociul 
and  public  life  in  the  United  States  to  balance  and  trim  each 
other,  no  hereditary  privilege,  no  aristocracy  of  rank,  no  pre- 
ponderating church,  no  overshadowing  families,  alike  illustri- 
ous by  their  descent,  powerful  by  their  wealth,  and  historical 
by  their  services,  to  compete  with  and  to  rival  public  opinion, 
mainly  expressed  through  the  newspapers  and  by  the  orators 
of  the  local  and  general  Legislatures,  elected  by  universal  suf- 
frage, it  results  that,  in  many  important  respects,  the  groat 
American  republic  is  not  a  country  where  there  exists  as  m'ucli 
political  freedom  for  the  individual  as  we  enjoy  in  England. 
The  whole  course  and  action  of  public  life  in  the  republic  go 
to  prove  that  political  freedom  may  exist  in  the  aggregate 
■without  being  permitted  in  the  segregate,  and  in  the  body  cor- 
porate without  extending  to  the  individual  members.  The 
press,  having  no  rival  except  the  senate,  is  a  greater  power 
than  it  can  ever  become  in  an  older  country,  where  its  rivals 
are  many,  and  enjoys  a  liberty  for  itself  which  it  does  not  al- 
ways care  to  extend  to  those  who  differ  from  its  opinions  or 
refuse  to  share  its  passions.  This  despotism  is  mainly  shown 
in  party  organization,  and  in  the  exaction  by  party  as  a  body 
of  duties  real  or  supposed  from  its  individual  members,  which 
are  incompatible  with  the  right  of  private  judgment.  Party 
and  the  press  act  and  react  upon  each  other,  and  between  them 
both  they  establish  a  political  tyranny,  none  the  less  unscru- 
pulous and  effectual  because  it  is  unsupported  by  bayonets,  can- 
non balls,  and  dungeons,  or  the  other  agencies  of  despotism 
employed  in  Europe. 

Universal  suffrage  is  not  only  the  substratum  on  which  the 
whole  political  edifice  rests,  but  the  supreme  arbiter  in  all 


PARTIES  AND  PARTY  TYRANNY. 


801 


caacH ;  and  the  intricacy  of  the  system  of  government — firstly, 
as  regards  the  separate  states,  and,  secondly,  as  regards  the 
federation — is  such  that  the  appeal  to  its  arbitration  is  inces- 
sant. Scarcely  a  day  passes  in  which  the  popular  vote  is  not 
required,  sometimes  for  the  election  of  merely  municipal  of- 
ficers  or  the  appointment  of  judges,  at  others  for  the  election 
of  members  of  the  local  Legislatures,  some  of  which  hf\ve  but 
one  and  some  two  houses.  But  it  is  the  still  more  important 
election  of  members  of  Congress,  with  representatives  elected 
for  two  and  senators  for  six  years,  and  the  quadrennial  elec- 
tion of  the  President,  which  call  the  life  of  the  country  into 
periodical  activity,  and  create  a  perpetually  recurring  source 
of  political  agitation. 

All  elections  whatsoever  are  party  questions,  and,  as  such, 
are  contested  with  a  bitterness  which  might  astonish  the  most 
experienced  burgesses  of  our  own  Eatan  swills  and  Little  Ped- 
lingtons,  and  make  our  oldest  and  astutest  electioneering  agents 
blush  for  the  littleness  of  their  own  field  and  scale  of  opera- 
tions. Though  there  have  never  been  more  than  two  great 
and  well-defined  parties  in  the  United  States  in  existence  at 
any  one  time,  their  nomenclature,  as  well  as  their  objects, 
have  always  been  so  shifting  and  uncertain  as  to  puzzle  the 
English  student  and  observer  to  understand  exactly  the  prin- 
ciples which  they  profess,  and  the  strict  line  of  demarkation 
between  them.  To  add  to  the  difficulty,  these  parties  have 
at  times  assumed  names  which  are  preoccupied  in  England, 
without  reference  to  their  original  meaning.  Thus,  in  En- 
gland, and  in  Europe  generally,  a  Democrat  and  a  Republican 
are  terms  which  are  well-nigh  convertible.  But  in  the  United 
States  the  Democrat  and  the  Republican  are  quite  as  distinct 
and  antagonistic — as.  far  as  office  and  its  emoluments  are  con- 
cerned, if  not  in  principle — as  Whig  and  Tory,  or  Liberal 
and  Conservative  are  in  the  British  Parliament.  A  Whig  in 
America  means,  or  used  to  mean — for  the  party  that  once  ex- 
isted under  this  venerable  cognomen  is  either  defunct  or  de- 
nies its  name — an  ultra-Conservative,  or  what  in  England 
would  be  called  a  Tory  of  the  old  school.  In  a  country 
where  all  are  Republicans,  to  be  called  a  Republican  is  to  be 


i 


802 


LIFE  AND  LIBEBTY  IK  AMERICA. 


called  by  a  designation  that  one  half  of  the  country  would  re- 
pudiato ;  and  in  a  purely  democratic  government,  a  large  por- 
tion of  the  electors  indignantly  object  to  being  called  Demo- 
crats. 

At  the  present  time,  the  two  great  divisions  into  which  the 
whole  politics  of  the  American  Union  resolve  themselves  arc 
the  two  just  named — the  Democratic  and  the  Republican. 
The  existing  President,  Mr.  Buchanan,  is  a  Democrat,  and 
came  in  on  what  is  called  the  Democratic  ticket.  By  Demo- 
crat seems  to  be  understood,  at  present — though  possibly  the 
word  had  not  always  the  same  meaning— one  who  is  opposed 
to  the  anti-slavery  and  the  free-soil  agitation — one  who  would 
refrain  from  abolishing,  or  attempting  to  abolish,  slavery  in 
any  of  the  Southern  or  Middle  States,  but  who  is  not  com- 
mitted to  the  policy  of  extending  it  beyond  those  bounds,  and 
who  would  not  aid  in  its  reintroduction  into  any  state  by  the 
Constitution  of  which  it  has  already  been  abolished.  . 

The  Democrats  desire  to  see  the  end  of  the  anti-slaVery 
agitation  in  all  its  forms  and  phases,  believing  that  the  states- 
men of  the  Union  have  something  better  to  do  and  think  of 
than  to  be  always,  as  they  phrase  it,  "  talking  about  niggers." 
But  as  the  slave  states,  by  an  unfortunate  political  necessity, 
and  to  maintain  the  balance  of  power,  must  annex  territory 
to  the  south  of  the  existing  limits  of  the  Union,  and  by  the 
acquisition  of  Cuba — by  fair  means  or  by  foul — the  Demo- 
cratic party  is  obliged  to  give  more  countenance  to  slaveiy 
than  it  has  always  cared  to  confess.  The  slave  states  have 
no  chance  of  keeping  up  their  equality  of  numbers  with  the 
free  states,  which  are  always  adding  to  the  votes  of  their 
party  in  the  Senate  and  in  the  House  of  Representatives  by 
the  creation  of  new  states  in  the  great  wildernesses  of  the  Far 
West — wildernesses  that  are  capable  of  being  cut  up,  in  time, 
into  at  least  twenty  new  commonwealths,  and  all  free  of 
slavery  except  by  Southern  immigration.  Hence  the  Demo- 
cratic party  is  composed  of  two  sections :  one  which  loves 
slavery  for  its  own  sake;  and  another  which  neither  loves 
nor  hates  it,  but  is  quite  content  to  tolerate  it,  and  even  to 
extend  it  for  the  sake  of  political  power,  which  might  other- 


PARTIES  AND  PiRTY  TYRANNY. 


808 


wise  slip  from  its  grasp.  The  Republicans,  on  tlio  other 
hnntl,  arc  opposed  to  slavery  on  principle,  juul  look  with  sonu* 
alarm  upon  its  growth  within  its  own  rccognizoU  U)ui)<lunt's, 
and  with  still  greater  ularni  upon  its  extension  into  such  ter- 
ritories as  Kansas,  or  any  other  states  which  may  hereafter 
be  formed  to  the  north  of  the  latitude  formerly  known  as  the 
Missouri  Compromise  Line.  There  are  some  minor  and  some 
important  ditferences  between  these  two  great  pai-ties  on  other 
points — the  Republicans,  whose  stronghold  is  in  the  manufac- 
turing North  and  New  England,  being  for  the  most  part  ultra- 
Protectionists,  while  the  Democrats  are  occasionally  more  in- 
clined to  look  favorably  upon  those  doctrines  of  Free  Trade, 
of  which  British  policy,  since  the  repeal  of  the  Corn-laws, 
has  set  the  world  so  great  an  example. 

In  all  civilized  countries,  and  more  especially  in  those  where 
there  is  any  degree  of  popular  liberty,  there  must  be  a  party 
which  desires  to  move,  and  a  party  which  desires  to  stand 
still ;  a  party  which  would  reform  abuses,  and  a  party  which 
would  retain  them  as  long  as  possible,  for  fear  lest  in  remov- 
ing them  some  great  bulwark  of  wise  liberty,  as  distinguished 
from  irrational  license,  might  be  carried  away  along  with 
them.     These  two  parties  have  always  existed  in  the  United 
States,  although  universal  suffrage  would  seem  to  leave  noth- 
ing for  the  advanced  Liberals  to  desire,  and  had  defined  their 
principles,  with  more  or  less  of  perspicuity  and  sharpness, 
long  before  the  recognition  of  the  republic  by  Great  Britain. 
In  the  days  when  Washington  was  President,  the  two  great 
parties  in  the  States  were  the  Federalists  and  the  Democrats. 
Washington  was  himself  the  leading  spirit  of  the  Federalists, 
as  his  great  opponent,  JefTerson,  was  of  the  Democrats.    The 
Federalists  desired  a  strong  central  government,  that  it  might 
present  a  bold  front  against  foreign  aggression,  and  hold  up 
its  head  as  equal  to  equal  among  the  greatest  powers  of  tho 
earth.    The  Democrats,  on  the  other  hand,  while  not  wishing 
to  oppose  the  end,  objected  to  the  means,  and  were  fearful 
that,  if  power  too  extensive  were  given  to  the  central  govern- 
ment, the  liberty  of  the  people  in  the  several  states  and  com- 
monwealths of  the  Union  would  be  impaired  and  ultimately 


-  ■ }" 


804 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


,i>j? 


destroyed,  llio  Fcdcralii*t8  dinappcnrcd  from  the  nroim  of 
IK)litic8  after  tlid  last  war  with  (ircat  IJritain  in  1812-M, 
but  began  to  rcapiwar  afterward  under  the  newer  name  of 
the  <<  National  Kepublicans."  The  pamo  party,  with  some 
minor  shades  of  difference,  appears  to  have  sprung  into  re- 
newed activity  in  1831-32,  under  the  revived  name  of 
"Whigs,"  when  the  Northern  manufacturorf*,  alaitned  at  the 
progress  of  the  cotton  and  woolen,  as  well  as  of  the  iron  and 
metal  manufactures  of  England,  began  to  clamor  more  lustily 
than  before  for  protection  to  native  industry.  Thus  a  new 
source  of  antagonism  between  parties,  in  addition  to  slavovy, 
Federalism,  and  what  arc  called  State  Rights,  was  intro-^'  ( .1. 
It  would  be  useless  to  detail  all  the  nicknames  whic^i  the  Iwu 
great  factions  of  the  Outs  and  the  Ins,  and  the  »lav;  a'  1  tho 
free,  the  Protectionists  and  tho  Free  Tra<Tcrs.  Iiavo  ccccptcd 
either  from  their  friends  or  their  enemies — luiiiit.s  which  last- 
ed their  little  day,  and  arc  almost  forgotten  even  in  \Va;  liip},';- 
ton  and  New  York.  But  among  the!?>i  may  be  mentioned  tho 
NuUifiers,  tho  Free-soilcrs,  the  Locofocos,  the  Know-nothings, 
and  tho  Native  Americans.  Some  of  these  would  exalt  tlic 
particular  state  at  tho  expense  of  tho  Union,  and  some  tho 
Union  at  the  expense  of  the  state.  Some  would  annex  terri- 
tories for  tlio  sake  of  slavery,  and  some  for  the  sake  of  aboli- 
tion. Some  would  welcome  the  immigration  from  Europe, 
and  give  it  political  rights  as  soon  as  it  arrived,  and  some 
would  acknowledge  no  political  privilege  but  in  men  born  on 
the  soil,  and  would  keep  nil  the  political  good  things  of  Amer- 
ica entirely  for  the  Americans. 

It  is  not  for  modes  or  principles  of  government  that  Amer- 
ican parties  are  arrayed  against  each  other.  They  have  es- 
tablished universal  suffrage,  the  ballot,  short  Parliament?, 
paid  membership— all  the  p;!lri+s  upon  which  our  English 
Chartists  insist  as  necessp.y  to  j,  .""ileal  sa  :.tion,  but  they 
have  not  entered  on  the  political  millennium,  or  secured  good 
or  cheap  government.  But  they  have  secured  a  tyranny  of 
party  and  opinion,  to  the  violence  and  stringency  of  which 
the  annals  of  British  constitutional  strife  can  offer  no  parallel. 
In  J  ublic  life  in  the  United  States  a  man  is  not  allowed  to 


PARTIES  AND  PARTY  TYRANNY. 


805 


1  nroim  of 

1812-11, 
r  name  of 
with  Bonio 
ip;  into  n- 
[  name   of 
•mod  ftt  the 
lie  iron  and 
more  lustily 
rhu8  a  new 
i  to  slavp^y, 
iintro'lt\(t'(l. 
iiic^i  the  Iwu 
liiv    a'  1  llio 
ivo  r.cocptcd 
a  which  Itist- 

in\Va;:lu^i{.";- 
nentioncd  tlio 
lOW-nothings, 
uld  exalt  the 
ind  some  the 
I  annex  terri- 
sake  of  aboli- 
from  Europe, 
ed,  and  some 

men  born  on 
lings  of  Amer- 


oxcrciws  ft  right  of  judgment  in  oppof«itiou  to  \\\»  party;  if  he 
do,  it  i"  :  '  hirt  |)cril.     lie  nniHt  go  with  hia  party  in  all  that 
the  leaders  in  public  meeting  a<*HcnibKHl  coni<idcr  i<»  be  «ec«fl. 
fury  or  cxyxidicat.     Ho  muMt  accept  the  whole  ''pUtform," 
whether  h>   like  it  or  not.     He  miii<t  not  pn-umc  to  take  ono 
"plank"  out  of  lli    «=tructure,  and  adhere  to  that  alone,  as  in- 
dependent judgment  is  treaf<"H  to  the  cause.     If  he  be  guilty 
of  it,  he  IS  lost  a.   a  politician,  and  Im  "Solemnly  "read  out"  of 
the  rimks,  to  become  a  m<'ic  ucrolite,  revolving  in  his  own  < 
bit,  but  having  no  farther  conni'tion  with  llio  greater  |>huu\ 
ory  body  of  the  party  except  to  bo  dashed  to  pieces  sliouS^l  ho 
ever  come  within  the  sphere  of  its  attraction.     The  utn.oiJt 
discipline  and  obedience  are  cnforood.     As  party  selects  ii-- 
men  not  only  for  Congress  and  the  central  government,  bt 
for  the  several  state  governments  and  Legislatures,  as   veil  ah 
for  municipal  offices,  all  of  which  .'ict  together  and  fit  into 
each  other  like  pieces  of  one  moci  ine,  beginning  with  the 
town  or  city,  and,  through  the  media  a  of  the  individual  com- 
monwealth, acting  upon  the  Unitcil  States  government  at 
Washington,  it  is  easy  to  see  how  vast  is  the  ramification,  and 
how  complicated  the  cranks  and  whcci  -  that  arc  set  in  mo- 
tion.    At  the  recent  nomination  of  a  mayor  for  the  city  of 
New  York,  which  threatened  to  produce  a  split  in  the  Dem- 
ocratic ranks,  and  a  serious  defalcation  from  the  party,  it  was 
openly  avowed  and  insisted  upon  by  Demo<'ratic  organs  in  the 
press,  and  by  Democratic  speakers  at  Tan  ^  many  Hall — a  cel- 
ebrated place  of  meeting,  to  which  political  slang  gives  the 
name  of  the  "Wigwam,"  and  to  the  principal  speakers  at 
■which  it  gives  in  like  manner  the  name  of  the  "  Sachems" — 
that  if  the  party  proposed  the  devil  himself  i or  mayor  of  New 
York,  member  of  Congress,  or  President  of  the  republic,  no 
member  of  the  party  would  have  a  right  to  ex  rcise  any  judg- 
ment as  to  the  propriety  of  the  nomination,  but  must  support 
the  devil  by  vote  and  influence,  or  leave  the  party.     And  in 
the  United  States,  the  rewards  of  party  service  are  not  only 
much  more  numerous  than  in  England,  but  the  opportunity 
of  giving  and  receiving  them  occurs  regularly  every  four  years 
on  the  nomination  and  election  of  a  new  President.    It  is  not 


t 


806 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


f<*58f 


simply  the  ministers  and  heads  of  departments,  but  all  the 
officials,  clerks,  and  even  supernumeraries  in  tlicir  employ, 
who  go  out  of  office  with  the  President — ^not  only  embassa- 
dors and  consuls,  but  every  person,  high  or  low,  great  or 
small,  in  receipt  of  a  salary  from  the  state.  That  such  a  sys- 
tem leads  to  corruption,  and  to  making  the  most  of  opportu- 
nities while  they  last,  to  peculation  and  to  jobbery  of  all  kinds, 
and  that  it  can  not  lead  to  good,  efficient,  honest  public  serv- 
ice, few  Americans  deny.  But  none  can  see  a  remedy  which 
would  not,  in  general  opinion,  be  worse  than  the  disease.  To 
extend  the  presidential  term  to  eight  or  ten  years  is  one  rem- 
edy that  has  been  suggested,  rather  for  the  sake  of  showing  its 
impracticability  than  for  any  other  reason.  Such  a  president, 
if  an  able  man,  might  become  too  powerful  for  the  Constitu- 
tion, and  seek  to  overthrow  it ;  and  if  engaged  in  a  foreign 
war,  in  which  he  was  gaining  victories  and  territories,  and 
thus  flattering  the  national  vanity  and  feeding  the  nati(inal 
passions,  might,  by  a  coup  d'etat,  render  his  position  perma- 
nent or  hereditary,  and  so  make  an  end  of  the  republic. 

Another  remedy  which  has  been  suggested  is  that  of  leav- 
ing the  president  to  go  out  of  office  every  four  years,  but  ap- 
pointing for  life  the  minor  officers  of  the  state.  But  this  prop- 
osition has  excited  almost  as  much  opposition  and  jealousy  as 
the  other,  and  armed  against  it  all  the  multitudinous  aspirants 
to  office ;  all  the  classes  who  have  not  energy  enough  for  suc- 
cessful trade  and  commerce,  but  greediness  enough  to  look 
with  wistful  eyes  upon  the  public  money ;  all  the  classes  who 
are  more  fitted  to  obey  than  to  command,  and  to  be  subor- 
dinates than  principals ;  and  all  that  still  more  numerous 
class  in  America  who  think  that  the  honors  and  emoluments 
of  public  life  are  due  to  those  who  organize  victory  for  the 
candidates  of  their  party,  and  that  the  triumph  of  the  party 
ought  to  be  followed  by  the  personal  advancement  of  every 
one  prominently  connected  with  it.  The  United  States  arc 
overrun  with  placemen  and  functionaries ;  and  as  the  mem- 
bers of  the  local  Legislatures  as  well  as  the  members  of  Con- 
gress are  paid  for  their  services,  politics  has  become  a  recog- 
nized profession,  to  which  men  are  regularly  trained,  and  by 


PARTIES  AND  PARTY  TYRANNY. 


307 


which  they  expect  to  gain  their  subsistence  or  make  their  for- 
tunes. The  consequence  is,  that  party  is  as  strict  in  its  rules 
and  discipline  as  the  clerical,  the  medical,  the  legal,  the  niil- 
itiiry,  and  the  naval  professions  are  in  Great  Britain  >vith  re- 
gard to  the  conduct  of  those  who  are  once  admitted  within 
the  circle.  As  in  England  there  are  offenses  in  a  clergj'raan 
which  the  bishop  or  archbishop  can  not  overlook ;  as  there  is 
conduct  in  a  barrister  for  which  he  may  be  disbarred,  and  in 
a  military  man  for  which  he  may  be  tried  by  court-martial, 
so,  in  America,  the  party  politician  must  adhere  to  the  rules 
of  his  party,  follow  the  proper  lead,  and  vote  and  act  as  the 
party  require,  or  be  brought  to  judgment,  and,  if  found  guilty, 
be  drummed  out  of  the  regiment,  and  lose  all  right  and  title 
to  the  loaves  and  fishes,  as  well  as  those  honors  with  which 
the  president  elected  by  the  party  might  in  other  circumstances 
have  rewarded  him. 

And  it  is  held,  moreover,  that  this  condition  of  affairs  is  not 
only  proper  in  itself,  but  absolutely  necessary  to  the  efficient  con- 
duct of  public  business.  The  obvious  tendency  of  government 
in  the  United  States  is  to  be  weak  and  to  be  weakened.  Law- 
makers there  are  more  habitually  law-breakers  than  in  older 
communities  ;  and  men,  especially  in  the  half-settled  districts 
and  in  the  slave  states,  are  but  too  much  inclined  to  be  judges, 
jurors,  and  executioners  in  their  own  cause,  and  to  supersede 
all  other  judgeship  by  the  decisions  of  that  very  famous  and 
expeditious  judge,  whose  court  is  in  the  highway  and  the  by- 
ways, whose  instruments  are  the  passions  of  the  people,  from 
whose  decisions  there  is  no  appeal,  and  whose  name  is  Lykcii. 
To  prevent  this  tendency  to  the  disintegration  of  power  con- 
sequent upon  the  fact  that  every  man  considers  himself  a  sov- 
ereign, a  judge,  and  a  lawgiver  by  virtue  of  his  inherent  and 
indefeasible  right  to  a  vote,  it  is  found  necessary  to  set  up  a 
counter  jurisdiction  to  that  of  the  individual,  in  the  jurisdic- 
tion of  the  party,  and  to  fuse,  as  it  were,  the  million  chaotic, 
heterogeneous,  and  conflicting  tyrannies  of  the  mass  into  the 
two  larger  and  more  manageable  tyrannies  of  the  expectant 
Outs  and  the  complacent  Ins.  Universal  suffrage  for  the 
mere  choice  of  a  ruler,  and  for  nothing  else,  may  lead  to  a 


m 


pirn' 


808 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


strong  government,  as  in  France ;  but  universal  suffrage  ex- 
tending  not  only  to  the  choice  of  the  chief  magistrate,  but  to 
the  whole  course  of  his  policy,  and  to  the  whole  jiersonnel  of 
his  appointments,  leads  inevitably — as  in  America — to  a  weak 
government ;  so  weak  that  the  tyranny  of  party  becomes  ab- 
solutely necessary  to  keep  life  and  soul  together,  and  to  pre- 
vent that  disintegration  which  is  political  death. 

Party  strife  and  its  results  in  Great  Britain  indirectly  affect 
the  whole  people,  inasmuch  as  they  affect  the  course  of  the 
national  policy  at  home  and  abroad ;  but  it  is  only  a  small 
section  of  the  governing  class  and  its  immediate  dependents 
who  are  directly  interested,  and  whose  personal  positions  and 
fortunes  are  palpably  involved.  With  us  the  battles  of  party 
kill  only  the  officers,  and  leave  the  rank  and  file  unscathed. 
In  the  United  States  the  whole  army  takes  the  chances  of 
war,  and  when  the  generalissimo  goes,  his  lowest  soldier  goes 
with  him.  And  there  is  this  defense  for  the  American  sys- 
tem— it  is  a  natural  conclusion  from  the  premises.  Granted 
a  pure  democracy ;  and  party  tjnranny  is  the  necessary  result. 
Every  man  is  eligible  to  the  presidency.  Every  man  thinks 
himself  as  good  or  better  than  the  President ;  and  if  the  Pres- 
ident has  any  thing  to  give  away,  why  not  give  it  to  his  polit- 
ical equal  who  helped  to  elect  him?  And  when  the  Pres- 
ident goes,  it  would  seem  to  be  a  depreciation  of  the  dignity 
and  value  of  the  humblest  employes  in  Custom-house  or  Post- 
office  whom  he  appointed  if  they  did  not  follow  him  into  re- 
tirement. And  they  go  accordingly,  and  remain  in  opposition 
for  another  four  years,  until  a  new  turn  in  the  wheel  brings 
their  party  back  again  into  office,  and  themselves  into  ad- 
vancement. 

In  Massachusetts  and  some  other  states,  the  judges  are  ap- 
pointed for  life  by  the  Senate  and  the  governor,  and  are  thus 
placed  above  the  turmoil  of  party  politics,  to  breathe  a  serencr 
atmosphere,  more  suitable  to  a  due  administration  of  justice 
than  the  murky  and  lurid  air  which  chokes  those  lower  valleys 
where  the  combatants  meet.  But,  with  the  exception  of  such 
local  judges,  and  those  of  the  Supreme  Court,  there  is  scarcely 
a  functionary  in  the  Union  that  has  held  the  same  office  above 


ALBANY. 


809 


suffrage  ex- 
tratc,  but  to 
personnel  of 
I — to  a  weak 
becomes  ab- 
,  and  to  pre- 

iirectly  affect 
course  of  the 
only  a  small 
te  dependents 
positions  and 
ittles  of  party 
lie  unscathed, 
le  chances  of 
St  soldier  coes 
\.merican  bjs- 
Lses.     Granted 
scessary  result, 
ry  man  thinks 
nd  if  the  Pres- 
it  to  his  polit- 
rhen  the  Pres- 
of  the  dignity 
house  or  Post- 
V  him  into  re- 
n  in  opposition 
le  wheel  brings 
iclves  into  ad- 
judges are  ap- 
',  and  are  thus 
eathe  a  serencr 
ition  of  justice 
le  lower  valleys 
ception  of  such 
lere  is  scarcely 
Ime  office  above 


four  years ;  and  perhaps  tho  most  ancient  of  all  as  a  function- 
ary is  the  honest  £nni»killiner,  named  M'Manus,  well  known 
to  all  the  City  of  "Washington,  and  to  every  body  who  has 
official  business  there,  who  holds  the  position  of  door-keeper 
at  the  White  House  or  President's  mansion.  For  no  less 
than  three  presidential  terms  has  M'Manus — as  great  in  his 
own  way  as  any  Gold  or  Silver  Stick,  Black  Rod  or  Polonius 
in  Europe — kept  his  position.  Presidents,  like  comets,  have 
sailed  into  the  political  heaven  with  their  portentous  tails,  and 
passed  out  of  sight,  but  he  has  remained  in  his  appointed 
sphere,  to  introduce  any  one  to  the  President  with  or  without 
a  card,  or  at  any  time ;  to  be  "  Hail,  good  fellow,  well  met !" 
with  senators,  representatives,  governors,  embassadors,  and 
judges;  to  wait  behind  the  presidential  chair,  or  usher  the 
guests  to  dinner,  or  hold  a  conversation  on  the  politics  of  Eu- 
rope or  America  in  the  ante-room  ere  dinner  is  announced. 
Partly  a  lord-chamberlain,  partly  a  Gold  Stick,  partly  a  lord 
in  waiting,  partly  a  door-keeper,  partly  a  butler,  partly  a  foot- 
man, and  entirely  a  citizen,  M'Manus  is  himself  an  institution 
— an  important  and  urbane  personage,  and  one  who  has  prob- 
ably had  more  real  enjoyment  in  the  possession  of  the  White 
House  than  any  president  who  ever  went  in  or  came  out  of  it. 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


ALBANY. 


April,  1858. 
From  New  York  to  Albany  was  a  short  journey ;  but,  ere 
starting,  the  interesting  question — to  one  who  had  not  beheld 
the  magnificent  scenery  of  the  Hudson — was  how  to  undertake 
it — by  rail  or  steamer  °i  The  weather  and  time  of  year  de- 
cided me  in  favor  of  the  rail.  The  ice  upon  the  Hudson  had 
not  sufficiently  cleared  away  to  enable  steam-boats  to  recom- 
mence their  usual  passages.  Though  at  a  later  period  I  was 
enabled  to  see  this  great  river  in  all  the  glory  of  spring — to 
sail  past  the  Palisades,  through  the  Tappan  Zee,  and  up  to 
Albany  (when  I  found  abundant  reason  to  agree  with  the  most 


■f'V 


f 


aK 


i 


w\ 


nm.:. 


310 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN"  AMERICA. 


enthusiastic  of  Americans  that  no  river  in  Europe,  unless  it 
Ikj  the  Clyde,  surpasses  the  Hudson  in  natural  beauty,  and 
that  the  Rhine  itself,  deprived  of  its  ruined  castles,  could  not 
stand  a  comparison  with  this  splendid  stream),  I  saw  nothing 
of  it  on  this  occasion  but  a  few  stray  glimpses  of  its  surpass- 
ing beauty  as  the  train  shot  rapidly  along.  Traveling  thus  on 
the  left  bank  of  the  river  for  upward  of  one  hundred  miles,  I 
arrived  at  Albany,  and  betook  myself  to  "  Congress  Hall,"  in 
the  upper  part  of  the  city.  This  hotel  was  recommended  to 
me  as  an  establishment  much  frequented  by  members  of  the 
two  houses  of  the  Legislature,  who  here,  in  the  capital  of  the 
"  Empire  State,"  undertake  the  local  government  of  a  Com- 
monwealth almost  as  large  as  England,  and  nearly  double  as 
populous  as  Scotland.  I  found  no  reason  to  repent  my  choice, 
and  during  a  residence  of  ten  days  was  enabled  to  see  the  sen- 
ators in  deshabille,  and  to  learn  something  of  the  mode  and 
the  agencies  by  which  public  and  private  bills  are  brought  in 
and  carried  through  Parliament  in  an  ultra-democracy.  I 
also  got  some  insight  into  the  art  and  mystery  of  what  the 
Americans  very  aptly  call  "  lobbying." 

Albany — beautifully  situated  on  ground  rising  steeply  from 
the  banks  of  the  Hudson — contains  about  fifty  thousand  inhab- 
itants, and  is  one  of  the  most  attractive,  cleanly,  well-ordered, 
and  elegant  cities  of  America.  Though  overshadowed  by  the 
commercial  greatness  of  New  York,  which  in  this  respect  it 
can  never  hope  to  rival,  it  is,  next  to  Washington,  the  great- 
est focus  of  political  life  within  the  limits  of  the  Confederacy. 
Between  the  commercial  and  the  political  capitals  of  this  great 
state,  which  it  has  recently  been  proposed  to  call  Ontario  in- 
stead of  New  York,  there  is  a  great  contrast.  New  York  city 
is  busy,  unscrupulous,  energetic,  ill-governed,  full  of  rowdyism 
and  of  the  most  violent  manifestations  of  mob-law  and  mob- 
caprice  ;  but  Albany  is  staid,  decent,  and  orderly.  The  tone 
of  society  is  quiet  and  aristocratic,  and  the  whole  appearance 
of  the  place  gives  the  traveler  an  idea  of  wealth  and  refine- 
ment. Farther  acquaintance  only  tends  to  confirm  this  im- 
pression. 

State  Street — at  the  top  of  which,  in  the  Park,  a  beautiful 


ALBANY. 


311 


)C,  unlcBS  it 
beauty,  and 
}gi,  could  not 
saw  nothing 
f  its  surpass- 
eling  thus  on 
idred  miles,  1 
rcss  Hall,"  in 
ommended  to 
jmbers  of  the 
capital  of  the 
;nt  of  a  Com- 
irly  double  as 
€nt  my  choice, 
to  see  the  sen- 
the  mode  and 
arc  brought  in 
democracy.    I 
rv  of  what  the 

ng  steeply  from 
liousand  inhab- 
y,  well-ordered, 
adowed  by  the 
this  respect  it 
gton,  the  great- 
he  Confederacy, 
als  of  this  great 

Icall  Ontario  in- 
New  York  city 
■ull  of  rowdyism 
►b-law  and  mob- 
ierly.    The  tone 
[hole  appearance 
■alth  and  refine- 
Iconfirm  this  im- 

'ark,  a  beautiful 


open  space  ndomcd  with  noble  elms  and  maple«,  stand  the 
Capitol  and  other  principal  public  buildings — rises  steeply 
from  the  water's  edge  to  the  crown  of  the  hill.     It  is  a  broad 
and  busy  thoroughfare,  and  at  various  points  commands  a  pic- 
turesque view  over  the  Hudson  to  the  lofty  green  hills  Iks- 
yond.     Albany  is  a  place  of  considerable  trade  and  manufac- 
ture.    It  produces  very  excellent  cabinet-work  of  all  kinds, 
and  is  particularly  celebrated  for  its  stoves,  grates,  and  orna- 
mental iron-work.     It  has  two,  if  not  three  daily  newspapers, 
and  a  flourishing  literary  and  scientific  institution.     The  Ko- 
man  Catholic  Cathedral  is  internally  one  of  the  largest  and 
most  magnificent  ecclesiastical  edifices  in  America.      Hero 
high  mass  is  sometimes  performed  with  a  splendor  and  com- 
pleteness, orchestral  and  vocal,  not  to  be  excelled  even  in  Paris 
or  Vienna,  and  to  which  London,  as  far  as  I  know,  can  make 
no  pretensions.     Albany  is  the  proposed  site  of  what  promises 
to  be  the  noblest  Observatory  in  America,  to  the  foundation 
of  which  the  public  spirit  of  a  private  citizen  (if  tlie  term  be 
applicable  to  a  lady)  has  contributed  the  sum  of  $80,000. 

Albany,  which  is  memorable  as  having  been  the  scat  of  the 
great  Convention  held  in  1754  for  the  purpose  of  bringing 
about  a  confederation  of  the  thirteen  original  states  and  colo- 
nies for  their  mutual  defense  and  general  benefit,  was  called 
Fort  Orange  by  the  Dutch  at  the  time  when  New  York  was 
known  to  the  world  as  New  Amsterdam.     The  Albanians,  as 
the  people  of  this  city  are  fond  of  calling  themselves,  though 
to  European  ears  the  name  sounds  oddly,  and  is  suggestive  of 
Greece  rather  than  of  America,  do  not  seem  to  be  generally 
aware  that  the  word  Albany  springs  naturally  from  that  of 
York;  that  the  Dukes  of  York  in  the  "Old  Country"  are 
Dukes  of  Albany ;  that  Albany  is  an  ancient  name  lor  the 
kingdom  of  Scotland,  and  that  the  dukedom  of  Albany  was 
the  appanage,  by  right  of  birth,  of  the  heir-apparent  of  the 
Scottish  crown. 

Up  to  this  point,  and  no  farther,  sailed  the  adventurous 
Hendrik  Hudson  in  search  of  the  western  passage  to  China ; 
and  liere,  and  all  the  way  up  from  the  Palisades — still  dream- 
ing that  he  was  on  the  highway  to  Cathay  and  all  its  fabulous 


'-V 


'•    f*^,.:^ 


812 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


I  ^,,r^ 


and  scarcely-to-be-imagined  wealth — he  held  intercourse  with 
the  simple-minded  natives,  and  exchanged  his  petty  gewgaws 
with  them  for  the  spoils  of  the  forest.  It  was  not  until  the 
year  1C09 — long  after  the  discovery  of  America — that  Hud- 
son, in  his  ship  the  Half  Moon,  entered  the  Narrows,  and  pro- 
nounced the  shores  on  either  side  to  be  "  a  good  land  to  fall 
in  with,  and  a  pleasant  land  to  see."  On  the  11th  of  Sep- 
tember in  that  year  he  began  to  ascend  the  noble  stream  which 
now  bears  his  name,  and  on  the  19th  he  anchored  off  the  spot 
where  now  stands  the  city  of  Albany.  At  the  place  now 
called  Castleton  he  landed  and  passed  a  day  with  the  natives, 
finding  them  kind  and  hospitable.  He  would  not,  however, 
consent  to  pass  the  night  away  from  his  ship ;  and  the  natives, 
thinking  in  their  unsophisticated  innocence  that  he  was  afraid 
of  their  bows  and  arrows,  broke  them  into  pieces  and  throw 
them  into  the  fire.  Little  did  honest  and  unfortunate  Hcn- 
drik  Hudson  know  what  an  empire  he  was  helping  to  estab- 
lish !  Little  did  the  poor  Indians  dream  what  an  empire  was 
passing  away  from  hands  no  longer  fitted  to  hold  it,  and  what 
omens  of  downfall  and  ruin  lay  in  every  flap  and  flutter  of 
the  sails  of  that  strange  ship  !  Had  they  foreseen  that  their 
race  was  doomed  to  melt  away  and  disappear  in  the  fierce 
light  of  those  pale  faces  like  the  ice  of  the  winter  before  the 
sunlight  of  the  spring,  their  gentle  courtesies  might  have  been 
converted  into  hatred  as  unrelenting  as  that  with  which  the 
white  strangers  were  received  elsewhere,  and  which  looks,  in 
the  light  of  subsequent  history,  as  if  it  were  prompted  by  the 
instinct,  which  so  often  transcends  reason.  No  trace  of  thp, 
Indians  now  remains  in  all  the  wide  territories  of  the  State 
of  New  York  except  a  few  stunted,  miserable  stra^lers  {ind 
vagabonds  in  the  wildernesses  of  Lakes  Champlain  and  Ni- 
agara— wildernesses  which  will  speedily  cease  to  be  wilder- 
nesses, and  in  which  the  Red  Man  in  a  few  years  will  no 
longer  find  a  resting-place  for  the  sole  of  his  foot,  and  where 
he  will  even  cease  to  be  regarded  as  a  show  and  a  curiosity. 
What  an  enormous  change  in  less  than  half  a  century !  At 
St.  Louis  there  are  men  still  living  who  had  to  fight  hand 
to  hand  with  the  Indians  for  their  lives,  and  whose  hearts 


•/•' 


J.: 


ALBANY. 


313 


•rcourso  with 
Btty  gewgaws 
not  until  the 
a — that  Hud- 
•0W8,  and  pro- 
)d  land  to  fall 
11th  of  Sep- 
1  gtrcam  which 
•ed  off  the  spot 
the  place  now 
ith  the  natives, 
I  not,  however, 
md  the  natives, 
,t  he  was  afraid 
eces  and  threw 
ifortunate  llen- 
elping  to  qstab- 
t  an  empire  was 
lold  it,  and  what 
[)  and  flutter  of 
cseen  that  their 
ar  in  the  fierce 
inter  before  the 
might  have  been 
with  which  the 
■which  looks,  in 
irompted  by  the 
No  trace  of  ^1^'^ 
•ies  of  the  State 
stragglers  and 
implain  and  Ki- 
Lc  to  be  wiklcr- 
w  years  will  no 
foot,  and  where 
and  a  curiosity. 
a  century !    At 
id  to  fight  hand 
id  whose  hearts 


palpitated  many  a  time  in  the  silent  watches  of  the  night, 
when  the  war-whoop  sounded  in  their  cars,  lest  ere  the  break 
of  day  the  tomahawk  should  flash  before  their  eyes,  and  their 
scalps  should  hang  as  trophies  at  the  girdles  of  the  savages. 

From  the  polite  art  of  scalping  to  the  politer  art  of  lobby- 
ing is  a  long  leap,  but  both  arc  suggested  by  Albany  past  and 
present.     Lobbying  is  one  of  the  great  results  of  equality,  uni- 
versal suffrage,  and  paid  membership  of  I'arliamcnt.     Where 
the  profession  of  politics  is  pursued,  not  for  love  of  fame  or  of 
honor,  or  from  motives  of  patriotism,  but  simply  as  a  profes- 
sion offering  certain  prizes  and  privileges  not  so  easily  attain- 
able in  law,  medicine,  art,  or  literature ;  in  a  political  scram- 
ble, where  the  man  with  "  the  gift  of  the  gab,"  the  organizer 
of  public  meetings,  the  marshalcr  of  voters,  the  ready  oratcr 
of  the  mob,  is  provided  with  a  seat  in  the  Legislature  and  a 
respectable  salary  at  the  same  time,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at  that  men  of  more  ambition  than  intellect  or  virtue  should 
aspire  to  and  attain  parliamentary  power.     There  are  brilliant 
exceptions,  no  doubt — men  of  fortune  and  intellect,  who  serve, 
or  try  to  servo  their  country  from  purely  patriotic  motives ; 
but  these  do  not  form  the  bulk  of  the  State  Legislatures  of 
the  Union,  or  even  of  that  more  dignified  Congress  which  sits 
at  Washington.      The  three,  four,  or  five  dollars  per  diem 
which  the  members  receive  in  the  local  Legislatures  is  but  too 
often  their  only  source  of  subsistence  ;  and  no  one  who  knows 
any  thing  of  the  internal  working  of  American  politics  will 
deny  the  fact  that  such  members  are  notoriously  and  avowed- 
ly open  to  the  influence  of  what  is  called  "  lobbying."     In 
our  ancient  Parliament  strangers  have  but  scant  and  sorely- 
begrudged  admission  to  the  debates,  and  none  whatever  to  the 
body  or  floor  of  the  House ;  but  in  the  American  Legislatures 
the  privilege  of  the  floor  is,  if  not  indiscriminately,  very  freely 
granted.     Governors,  deputy  governors,  and  ex-governors,  ex- 
members,  judges,  generals,  newspaper  editors,  and  a  whole 
host  of  privileged  persons,  can  enter  either  chamber,  and  mix 
familiarly  with  the  members,  sit  with  them  on  their  seats,  and 
be  as  free  of  the  House  for  every  purpose,  except  speaking 
and  voting,  as  if  they  had  been  duly  elected  by  the  people. 

O 


.r 


l\ 


314 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


ft     % 

.1 


This  easy  and  fumiliar  intercourse  leads,  in  the  case  of  pri- 
vate and  local  billi«,  to  an  immensity  of  jobbery,  and  has  made 
"  lobbying,"  in  most,  if  not  all  the  states,  a  recognized  art 
and  science  among  the  prominent  outsiders  of  political  life. 
Nor  can  it  well  bo  otherwise,  the  preliminary  conditions  bcinj,' 
granted.  All  the  local  business  as  regards  public  works  and 
improvements  of  the  great  city  of  New  York  is  transacted  at 
Albany,  which  is  the  Westminster  without  being  the  London 
of  the  "  Empire  State."  And  how  is  it  to  be  expected  that  a 
needy  and  ambitious  lawyer  without  practice,  having  nothin«» 
but  his  three  or  four  dollars  a  day,  and  upon  whose  single 
vote  the  fortunes  of  a  project  costing  millions  to  carry  into 
effect  may  absolutely  depend,  shall  not  be  open  to  the  influ- 
ences of  those  who  "lobby"  him?  No  farther  disquisition 
upon  the  morality  or  propriety  of  such  a  state  of  affairs  is 
necessary.  It  may  be  noted,  however,  for  the  guidance  of 
such  of  the  "  advanced  politicians"  of  our  own  country  who 
think  or  argue  that  if  a  thing  be  established  in  America  it 
would  bo  well  to  give  the  same  thing  a  trial  in  England,  and 
who,  for  this  reason,  advocate  paid  membership  of  Parliament 
among  ourselves. 


\\!"'i 


\\4l 


CHAPTER  XXXVI. 

THE  FUTURE  OP  THE  UNITED   STATES. 

In  traversing  this  great  republic — so  vast  in  extent,  so  rich 
in  resources,  not  one  tithe  or  one  hundredth  part  of  which  is 
yet  developed  or  thoroughly  known — it  is  impossible  for  any 
traveler  of  ordinary  intelligence,  whatever  be  the  bent  of  his 
mind,  to  avoid  indulging  in  some  degree  of  speculation  as  to 
its  future  destiny.  If  now,  with  a  population  not  equal  to 
that  of  the  British  Isles,  but  with  a  territory  capable  of  em- 
ploying and  feeding  ten  or  twenty  times  the  number,  it  holds 
so  high  a  place  in  the  polity  of  nations,  what  will  be  its  power 
and  influence  abroad  and  its  happiness  at  home  when  its  fruit- 
ful valleys,  its  teeming  hill-sides,  and  its  magnificent  prairies 


'i  ' 


case  of  pri- 
id  has  made 
cognized  art 
political  life, 
iditions  bcinj^ 
ic  works  and 
transacted  at 
<r  the  London 
tpccted  that  a 
aving  nothing 
I  whose  single 
to  carry  into 
n  to  the  influ- 
cr  disquisition 
,tc  of  affairs  is 
16  guidance  of 
n  country  who 
I  in  America  it 
in  England,  and 
,p  of  Parliament 


THE  FUTUHE  OF  TUB   UNITED  STATES. 


815 


arc  ail  brought  under  cultivutiun  ;  when  its  coal,  il.H  oopijcr, 
its  iron,  its  lead,  its  silver,  and  its  gold  mines  shall  bo  all  add- 
ing their  tribute  to  the  national  wealth     when  the  sniuko  of 
countless  factories  shall  darken  the  air  m  distiicts  where  the 
primeval  forest  yet  stands ;  and  when  it  shall  produce  within 
its  own  boundaries  all  the  articles  of  necessity  and  luxury 
that  it  now  draws  from  Europe?     Inhabited  by  the  noblest 
and  most  intelligent, races  on  the  earth ;  starting  fair  and  free 
in  the  great  competition  ;  utterly  untrammeled  by  the  impedi- 
ments which  have  retarded  the  progress  of  the  same  peoples 
in  our  older  hemisphere,  to  what  uses  will  they  turn  their  un- 
paralleled advantages  ?     Will  they  be  able  to  solve  the  great 
problems  of  government  which  have  puzzled  sages  and  philos- 
ophers, kings  and  statesmen,  students  and  men  of  business 
since  the  world  began  ?     And  will  they  secure,  as  they  grow 
older  and  more  thickly  peopled,  that  which  all  governments 
profess  to  desire — the  greatest  happiness  of  the  greatest  num- 
ber?   Shall  practice  and  theory  be  found  compatible  with 
each  other?    And  shall  republicanism  be  able  to  justify  itself 
in  the  eyes  of  all  men,  as  not  only  the  most  equitable  and 
workable,  but  the  most  beneficial  and  convenient  form  of 
government  for  the  masses  of  mankind  ?     And,  above  all  the 
rest,  will  the  union  of  perhaps  a  hundred  commonwealths, 
instead  of  only  thirty-two,  as  at  present,  be  permanent  ?     Or 
will  the  increase  of  population  lead  to  difficulties  which  are 
now  lightly  felt — if  felt  at  all — in  consequence  of  the  im- 
mensity of  elbow-room  which  the  wilderness  allows  discontent 
to  emigrate  to  and  to  thrive  in  ?     And  will  those  difficulties 
— aided  by  time,  aggravated  by  circumstances,  and  rendered 
different  in  degree  as  well  as  in  nature  in  the  South  and  in 
the  North,  and  on  the  Pacific  Sea-board,  by  the  operation  of 
climate  upon  the  life,  character,  and  brain  of  the  race — be- 
come so  irreconcilable  as  to  dissever  the  glorious  fabric,  and 
re-enact  in  America  the  melancholy  drama  of  Europe  and 
Asia? 

Americans  who  bring  the  knowledge  acquired  by  European 
travel  to  the  study  of  their  native  politics,  past  and  present, 
do  not  conceal  their  opinion  that  a  dissolution  of  the  Union  is 


■^M%, 


316 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


•■I 


S^Jj- 


fX'l 


:i 


'.i^L.d 


among  the  possibilities  and  even  probabilities  of  the  future ; 
but,  us  they  du  not  anticipate  such  an  event  while  the  popu- 
lation is  under  fifty  millions,  or  even  under  a  hundred,  it  gives 
them  no  great  anxiety.     The  deluge  that  is  to  burst  over  the 
earth  in  a  hundred  years  is  a  deluge  which,  pven  if  positively 
certain  to  come  and  impossible  to  prevent,  gives  little  trouble 
to  the  existing  generation.    Many  persons  in  the  United  States 
talk  of  a  dissolution  of  the  Union,  but  few  believe  in  it.     At 
intervals,  some  fiery  orator  or  editor  of  the  South,  exasper- 
ated by  the  taunts  of  equally  fiery  and  unreasonable  abolition- 
ists and  Free-soilers  in  the  North,  and  feeling,  at  the  same 
time,  that  he  is  taxed  in  his  wearing  apparel,  his  household 
furniture,  and  in  every  article  of  luxury  for  the  supposed  ben- 
efit of  Northern  manufacturers,  call?  for  a  Southern  confedera- 
tion of  slave  states,  and  insists  that  they  could  maintain  them- 
selves against  the  free  north  either  by  their  own  unaided  en- 
ergy and  resources,  or  by  means  of  a  commercial  and  free- 
trade  alliance  with  Great  Britain,  their  best  customer  for  all 
their  agricultural  produce  of  sugar,  rice,  and  cotton.     Some- 
times a  Northern  orator  or  editor  endeavors  to  retaliate  upon 
the  South,  to  show  it  'hat  without  the  North  they  could  not 
subsist,  and  that  the  North,  with  three  times  their  population, 
and  all  composed  of  free  men,  could  reannex  the  South  in  a 
summer  campaign,  even  without  raising  the  cry  of  freedom  to 
the  negroes  to  exasperate  and  to  shorten  the  struggle.   Another 
section  of  the  North,  not  so  warlike  in  tone,  is  sometimes  driven 
to  make  the  assertion  that,  if  it  could  get  rid  of  its  enforced 
participation  in  the  sin  of  slavery  by  any  other  means  than  dis- 
ruption, it  would  welcome  disruption  as  a  boon.    But  all  iha 
is  mere  bravado  and  empty  talk.     It  means  nothing.    The 
Union  is  dear  to  all  Americans,  whatever  they  may  say  to  the 
contraiy ;  and  if  any  one  not  an  American  presumes  to  reit- 
erate the  beliei — which  may,  perhaps,  have  been  instilled  into 
his  mind  by  American  arguments — that  the  Union  will  be  dis- 
rupted, he  is  either  told  that  he  knows  nothing  about  the  mat- 
ter, or  that,  being  filled  with  a  mean  jealousy  of  American 
greatness,  "  the  wish  is  father  to  the  thought." 

Whatever  may  happen  in  future,  thei'e  is  no  present  danger 


THE   FUTURE  OF  THE   T  viTKD  SI  v 


in 


to  the  Union,  and  the  violent  expressions  to  whirh  ovfr 
puliticianM  of  the  North  and  South  Hometiincfl  };iv<'  vt  t  hm\B 
no  real  meaning;  and  those  who  would  truly  under-«  .nd  the 
feeling  of  Amerioiins  in  this  rcs|)cct  must  rcniemlicr  iliui  the 
North  and  the  South  have  not  all  the  arguments  to  themselves, 
and  do  not  compose  the  whole  Union.  The  largest  portion, 
and  one  which  promises  to  Iw  hereafter  the  richest  and  most 
prosperous  of  the  whole  Confederation,  Is  the  West.  Tho 
"  Gkeat  West,"  as  it  is  fondly  called,  is  in  the  position  even 
now  to  arbitrate  between  North  and  South,  should  the  quaiTel 
stretch  beyond  words,  or  should  anti-slavery  or  any  other  ques- 
tion succeed  in  throwing  any  difference  between  them  which 
it  would  take  'revolvers  and  rifles  rather  than  speeches  and 
votes  to  put  an  end  to.  General  Cass,  who  in  early  life  was 
United  States  Commissioner  for  the  Indian  Tcmtory  west  of 
the  Ohio — a  territory  at  the  borders  of  which  now  stands  the 
large  city  of  Cincinnati,  and  which  is  covered  for  hundreds  of 
miles  beyond  that  point  with  cities,  towns,  and  villages,  and 
all  the  stir  of  a  busy  civilization — expressed  at  a  recent  rail- 
way meeting  in  Cincinnati  the  prevalent  idea  of  his  country- 
men on  this  subject :  "  I  have,"  said  he,  "  traversed  this  West- 
ern region  when  it  was  a  wilderness — an  almost  unbroken  for- 
est from  this  point  to  the  Pacific  Ocean — a  forest  inhabited 
only  by  the  wild  Indian  and  by  the  wilder  animals  which  God 
gave  him  for  his  support.  Where  I  then  followed  the  war- 
path I  now  pass  up  the  railway.  I  have  in  the  interval  visited 
the  most  highly  civilized  nations  of  the  Old  World,  and  I  have 
returned,  I  think,  a  better  citizen  and  a  wiser  man.  I  say 
that  there  is  not  on  this  earth,  from  the  rising  to  the  setting 
sun,  a  more  prosperous  country  than  the  United  States,  a  bet- 
ter government,  or  a  happier  people.  You,  my  fellow-citizens 
of  the  West,  hold  the  destinies  of  this  magnificent  republic  in 
your  hands.  Say  to  the  North  or  to  the  South,  or  to  any 
quarter  whence  comes  a  threat  of  disunion,  'Peace,  be  still!' 
Wc  in  tho  West  have  the  power  to  preserve  this  precious  work 
of  our  fathers,  and  we  ivill  preserve  it !  The  Hebrews  of  old 
had  their  pillar  of  cloud  by  day  and  their  pillar  of  fire  by  night 
to  guide  them  through  the  desert  to  the  promised  land ;  and 


^^1 


818 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


Mnco  tho  mcmornblo  dny  of  our  cxo<lu«  from  the  bondnpo  of 
Kngluiidwc  have  luul  j^uidcM — jiilljirH  by  dayaiul  nij;ht — which 
have  led  us  through  many  trials  and  dangers,  till  there  is  now 
no  one  to  injure  us  but  ourselves,  and  nothing  to  fear  but  the 
just  j«nlgments  of  OckI.  I^t  us  pronounce,  then,  with  one 
voice,  '  Witlicred  Ikj  the  hand  that  is  stretched  out  to  touch 
tho  Ark  of  the  Union.  The  niiglity  West  will  defend  it,  now 
and  forever!'" 

And  no  doubt  this  is  tho  feeling  of  Americans  of  all  par- 
tics  wherever  they  reason  calmly  upon  the  suljject,  and  arc 
not  betrayed  into  i)ctulancc  by  the  slavery  question.  As  the 
venerable  statesman  truly  observes,  tho  United  States  incur 
no  danger  from  foreign  aggressions;  there  is  no  one  to  injure 
tlicm  but  themselves ;  and  they  have  nothing  to  fear  but  "  tho 
just  judgments  of  God."  But  this  is  only  a  portion  of  the 
subject,  and  the  questions  still  remain,  Will  they  not  injure 
themselves?  And  will  they  not  incur  the  judgments  of  God 
by  contravention  of  his  moral  laws,  and  by  their  lust  of  terri- 
tory, bringing  them  into  collision  with  foreign  powers  ?  That 
tho  people  will  increase,  and  multiply,  and  replenish  the  wliolo 
continent,  no  one  can  doubt ;  and  that,  in  the  course  of  ages, 
North  America  will  bo  as  populous  as  Europe,  and  reach  a  far 
liigher  civilization  than  Asia  ever  attained  even  in  the  pre-his- 
toric  ages,  which  have  left  us  no  other  records  but  their  mar- 
velous architectural  ruins,  it  would  be  a  want  of  faith  in  the 
civilizing  influences  of  freedom  and  Christianity  to  deny.  But, 
in  speculating  upon  the  future  of  a  people,  the  mind  clings  to 
the  idea  of  empire  and  government,  and  wc  ask  ourselves 
vv^hether  empire  in  this  noble  region  will  be  one  or  many,  cen- 
tral or  local,  imperial  or  republican  1  Whether  the  great  re- 
public shall  exist  undivided,  or  whether  it  will  fall  to  pieces 
from  its  own  weight  and  unwieldiness,  or  from  some  weakness 
in  the  chain  which  shall  be  the  measure  and  the  test  of  its 
strength  ?  Or  whether,  for  mutual  convenience  and  by  com- 
mon consent,  these  Anglo-Saxon  commonwealths,  when  they 
have  doubled,  trebled,  or  quintupled  their  numbers  by  the  sub- 
jugation of  the  entire  wilderness,  shall  not  rearrange  them- 
selves into  new  combinations,  and  form  a  binary  or  a  trinary 


TUE  FUTURE  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 


819 


Ixmdnpc  of 
lij^ht — which 
there  \a  how 
>  feiir  but  the 
en,  with  one 
out  to  touch 
Icfend  it,  now 

ns  of  all  pur- 
lycct,  and  arc 
ition.     As  the 
1  States  incur 
)  one  to  injure 
,  fear  but "  the 
portion  of  the 
hey  not  injure 
•rmcnts  of  God 
ir  lust  of  tcrri- 
powcrsl   That 
cnii*h  the  wluAe 
course  of  ages, 
and  reach  a  fur 
1  in  the  pre-his- 
but  their  mar- 
of  faith  in  the 
to  deny.   But, 
mind  clings  to 
ask  ourselves 
le  or  many,  cen- 
ter the  great  re- 
ill  fall  to  pieces 
some  weakness 
the  test  of  Us 
icc  and  by  com- 
ilths,  when  they 
[bcrs  by  the  sub- 
•carrangc  thcm- 
Lry  or  a  trinary 


j«y?»tcm,  ««cli  M  the  tolcf»copo  fliows  xin  \n  th.o  heavens  T  Or 
whet  her,  in  conso<iuenco  of  internal  strife,  fomo  new  Alexan- 
der, Charieinajine,  or  Napoh-on  of  the  West  shall  nri.-e  to 
make  himself  lord  absohite  and  hereditary,  and  at  his  (loath 
leave  the  inheritance  to  be  scranibUd  tor  and  di\i(l(d  by  his 
jrcnerals?  Tliough  it  may  be  folly  to  attempt  to  look  too  far 
into  the  future,  or  for  a  statesman  to  legislate  with  a  view  to 
what  may  or  what  may  not  happen  a  humlred  and  llfty  yean* 
hence,  still  true  wisdom  recpiires  that  men  charged  witli  the 
destinies  of  jjneat  nations,  and  having  the  power  to  influence 
the  course  of  events  by  their  deeds  and  their  opinions,  should 
not  confine  themselves  to  the  things  of  to-day,  but  calculate 
hy  aid  of  the  experience  of  histoiy,  and  by  knowledge  and 
study  of  human  nature,  how  the  deeds  of  to-day  may  Inflnenco 
the  thoughts  of  to-morrow,  and  how  the  thoughts  of  to-mor- 
row may  produce  deeds  in  endless  succession  through  all  fu- 
ture time. 

That  the  TTnion  may  Ikj  disturbed  or  disrupted  at  some 
period  near  or  remote,  is  an  idea  familiar  to  the  mind  of 
every  inquirer  and  observer;  and  were  it  not  so,  the  very 
threats  of  the  North  or  South,  meaningless  as  they  may  be  at 
the  present  time,  would  servo  to  make  it  so.  Mr.  Buchanan, 
the  actual  president,  whose  perceptions  have  been  enlarged  by 
European  travel  and  residence,  and  whose  mind  is  not  entirely 
incloi^d  within  an  American  wall,  as  the  minds  of  some  of  his 
countrymen  are,  is  among  the  number  of  statesmen  in  the 
Union  whose  eyes  arc  opened  to  the  dangers  which  it  may  in- 
cur hereafter  when  population  has  largely  increased,  and  when 
the  struggle  for  existence — now  so  light  in  such  a  boundless 
and  fertile  region — has  become  as  fierce  and  bitter  as  in  Eu- 
rope. It  is,  after  all,  the  hungry  belly  of  the  people,  and  not 
the  heads  of  legislators,  that  tries  the  strength  of  political  sys- 
tems ;  and  when  all  the  land  is  occupied,  and  has  become  too 
dear  for  the  struggling  farmer  or  artisan  to  purchase ;  when 
the  starving  man  or  the  pauper  has  a  vote  equally  with  the 
well-fed  and  the  contented  proprietor ;  and  when  the  criminal 
counts  at  an  election  for  as  much  as  an  honest  man,  what  may 
be  the  result  of  universal  suffrage  on  the  constitution  of  the 
republic  and  the  stability  of  the  Union  ^ 


/' 


r 


li'^^m^ 


t/liKtVSI'' 


W^^^; 


320 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


In  a  letter  .ipologizing  for  non-attendance  at  the  centennial 
celebration  of  the  capture  of  Fort  Duquesne,  the  President 
uttered  these  memorable  words : 

"  From  the  stand-point  at  which  we  have  arrived,  the  anx- 
ious patriot  can  not  fail,  while  reviewing  the  past,  to  cast  a 
glance  into  the  future,  and  to  speculate  upon  what  may  be  the 
condition  of  our  beloved  country  when  your  posterity  shall  as- 
semble to  celebrate  the  second  centennial  anniversary  of  the 
capture  of  Fort  Duquesne.  Shall  our  whole  countiy  then 
compose  one  united  nation,  more  populous,  powerful,  and  free 
than  any  other  which  has  ever  existed  1  Or  will  the  federacy 
have  been  rent  asunder,  and  divide^  into  groups  of  hostile  and 
jealous  states  ?  Or  may  it  not  be  possible  that,  ere  the  next 
celebration,  all  the  fragments,  exhausted  by  intermediate  con- 
flicts with  each  other,  may  have  finally  reunited,  and  sought 
refuge  under  the  shelter  of  one  great  and  overshadowing  des- 
potism ?  ' 

"These  questions  will,  I  firmly  believe,  under  the  provi- 
dence of  God,  be  virtually  decided  by  the  present  generation. 
We  have  reached  a  crisis  when  upon  their  action  depends  the 
preservation  of  the  Union  according  to  the  letter  and  spirit  of 
the  Constitution,  and  this  once  gone,  all  is  lost. 

"  I  regret  to  say  that  the  present  omens  are  far  from  pro- 
pitious. In  the  last  age  of  the  republic  it  was  considered  al- 
most treasonable  to  pronounce  the  word  'disunion.'  *rimes 
have  since  sadly  changed,  and  now  disunion  is  freely  pre- 
scribed as  the  remedy  for  evanescent  evils,  real  or  imaginarj', 
which,  if  left  to  themselves,  would  speedily  vanish  away  in  the 
progress  of  events. 

"  Our  Revolutionary  fathers  have  passed  away,  and  the  gen- 
eration next  after  them,  who  were  inspired  by  their  personal 
counsel  and  example,  have  nearly  all  disappeared.  The  pres- 
ent generation,  deprived  of  these  lights,  must,  whether  they 
will  or  not,  decide  the  fate  of  their  posterity.  Let  them  cher- 
ish the  Union  in  their  heart  of  hearts — let  them  resist  every 
measure  which  may  tend  to  relax  or  dissolve  its  bonds — let 
the  citizens  of  different  states  cultivate  feelings  of  kindness 
and  forbearance  toward  each  other — and  let  all  resolve  to 


\.. 


-^ 


:he  centennial 
the  President 

ived,  the  anx- 
past,  to  cast  a 
lat  may  be  the 
terity  shall  as- 
ivcrsary  of  the 
countiy  then 
rei-ful,  and  free 
ill  the  federacy 
3  of  hostile  and 
it,  ere  the  next 
termediate  con- 
Led,  and  sought 
shadowing  des- 

nder  the  provi- 
sent  generation, 
tion  depends  the 
ter  and  spirit  of 

5t. 

far  from  pro- 
considered  al- 
fcunion.'  Times 
is  freely  pre- 
al  or  imaginary, 
nish  away  in  the 

ay,  and  the  gen- 
y  their  personal 
[red.  Thepres- 
it,  whether  they 

Let  them  cher- 
lem  resist  every 
e  its  bonds— let 
in"S  of  kindness 

t  all  resolve  to 


THE  FUTURE  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 


821 


transmit  it  to  their  descendants  in  the  form  and  spirit  they 
have  inherited  from  their  forefathers,  and  all  will  then  be  well 
for  our  country  in  future  time." 

The  President,  although  it  may  seem  presumptuous  in  n 
stranger  to  say  so,  seems  to  mistake  the  feelings  of  his  coun- 
trymen on  "disunion."  lie  appears  to  believe  their  transi- 
tory anger  to  be  the  expression  of  a  deep  conviction.  From 
his  high  position  as  an  American,  he  does  not  adequately  un- 
derstand or  clearly  see  that  what  Americans  say  to  Americans 
in  the  heat  of  conflict  is  not  what  they  say  in  cooler  moments 
to  Europeans.  As  husband  and  wife  often  hurl  words  of  bit- 
terness and  scorn  to  one  another,  which  they  would  be  very 
sorry  that  any  one  else  should  hurl  or  even  whisper  against 
cither  of  them ;  in  like  manner,  the  Americans  speak  of  the 
rupture  of  the  Union  "en  famille."  "  They  skin  their  skunk" 
in  their  own  domain,  and  wish  no  foreigner  to  be  within  reach 
of  the  bad  odor.  And  although  the  present  Constitution  of 
the  Confederacy  be  a  Constitution  for  fair  weather,  often  un- 
workable and  coming  to  a  dead  lock,  and  no  more  suitable  for 
stormy  weather  than  one  of  the  elegant  and  commodious 
Hudson  Kiver  steam-boats  is  for  the  swell  and  tempest  of  the 
Atlantic  Ocean,  it  is  clear  from  their  own  past  history,  recent 
as  it  is,  that  the  Constitution  can  be  amended,  and  be  made 
elastic  enough  to  meet  all  ordinary  contingencies  of  wind  and 
weather. 

The  real  dangers  of  the  Union  do  not  spring  from  the  ine- 
lasticity of  the  Constitution  or  from  the  quarrels  of  the  North 
and  South,  from  slavery  or  anti-slavery,  or  from  any  domestic 
question  likely  to  arise,  so  much  as  they  do  from  lust  of  terri- 
tory on  the  one  part,  and  from  political  and  social  corruption 
on  the  other.  Both  of  them  are  peculiarly  the  vices  of  re- 
publics. The  first  leads  to  war;  war  produces  warriors; 
warriors,  if  brilliantly  successful,  become  ambitious ;  and  am- 
bition tempts  to  the  overthrow  of  the  political  system  that 
will  not  allow  it  scope.  The  Alexanders  and  the  Bonapartes 
are  a  class  which  has  more  numerous  representatives  than  the 
Washingtons.  The  United  States  have  had  one  pure  patriot, 
and  will  be  both  unfortunate  and  fortunate  if  they  have  an- 

02 


/■■v. 


!^i^. 


^^A^t^S 


822 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN"  AMERICA. 


j^T^ 


W  .1 


Other  to  equal  either  his  purity  or  his  renown — unfortunate 
in  the  civil  commotions  and  dilficulties  which  can  alone  pro- 
duce such  a  man,  and  fortunate,  should  a  hero  of  equal  cour- 
age and  fortune  emerge  out  of  civil  strife,  if  he  do  not  turn 
his  victories  to  personal  account,  and  aggrandize  himself  at 
the  expense  of  the  liberties  of  his  country. 

But  a  greater  danger  even  than  this — the  most  formidable 
of  all  the  rocks  that  are  ahead — is  the  growth  of  peculation 
and  corruption,  and  the  decay  of  public  virtue.  A  republic 
is,  theoretically,  the  purest  and  most  perfect  form  of  govern- 
ment, but  it  requires  eminently  pure  men  to  work  it.  A  cor- 
rupt monarchy  or  despotism  may  last  for  a  long  time  without 
fatal  results  to  the  body  politic,  just  as  a  man  may  live  a  long 
time,  and  be  a  very  satisfactory  citizen,  with  only  one  arm, 
one  leg,  or  one  eye.  In  despotic  countries  the  people  may  be 
virtuous  though  the  government  is  vicious ;  but  a  corrupt  re- 
public is  tainted  in  its  blood,  and  bears  the  seeds  of  deatl^  in 
every  pulsation.  And  on  this  point  Mr.  Buchanan  seems  to 
have  a  clearer  vision  than  many  of  his  countrymen.  The 
presidential  chair,  like  the  tripod  of  the  Pythoness,  gives  an 
insight  into  things.  He  knows  by  the  daily  and  hourly  solic- 
itations of  political  mendicancy — by  the  clerkship  demanded 
for  this  man's  son  or  that  man's  cousin — by  the  consulship  re- 
quired for  this  brawler  at  a  meeting,  and  the  embassadorship 
to  London  or  Paris,  or  a  place  in  the  ministry  claimed  by  this 
indomitable  partisan  or  that  indefatigable  knocker  and  ringer 
at  the  door  of  promotion,  how  corrupt  are  the  agencies  at 
work.  He  knows,  too,  what  personal  humiliation  he  himself 
had  to  undergo  before  reaching  the  White  House,  and  which 
he  must  daily  suffer  if  he  would  please  his  party.  He  knows, 
as  every  President  must  know,  no  matter  who  or  what  he  is, 
or  what  his  antecedents  may  have  been,  what  a  vast  amount 
of  venality  has  to  be  conciliated  and  paid,  one  way  or  another, 
before  the  hungry  maw  of  Universal  Suffrage  can  be  fed  and 
satisfied,  and  the  wheels  of  the  great  car  of  the  republic  be 
sufficiently  greased.  In  reference  to  this  fever  in  the  blood  of 
the  state,  he  thus  solemnly  warns  the  citizens  in  the  letter 
from  which  quotation  has  already  been  made : 


THE  FUTURE  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 


323 


-unfortunate 
n  alone  pro- 
r  equal  cour- 
do  not  turn 
EC  himself  at 

st  formidable 
of  peculation 
A  republic 
'm  of  govcm- 
rk  it.    A  cor- 
time  without 
lay  live  a  long 
jnly  one  arm, 
people  may  be 
t  a  corrupt  re- 
;ds  of  death  in 
anan  seems  to 
trymen.     The 
DnesB,  gives  an 
id  hourly  solic- 
ihip  demanded 
consulship  re- 
imbassadorship 
ilaimed  by  this 
Iker  and  ringer 
lc  agencies  at 
ion  he  himself 
ise,  and  which 
He  knows, 
or  what  he  is, 
a  vast  amount 
ay  or  another, 
lean  be  fed  and 
te  republic  be 
n  the  blood  of 
Is  in  the  letter 


"  I  shall  assume  the  privilege  of  advancing  years  in  refer- 
ence to  another  growing  and  dangerous  evil.  In  the  last  age, 
although  our  fathers,  like  ourselves,  were  divided  into  political 
parties  which  often  liad  severe  conflicts  with  each  other,  yet 
we  never  heard  until  within  a  recent  period  of  the  employ- 
ment of  money  to  caiTy  elections.  Should  this  practice  in- 
crease until  the  voters  and  their  representatives  in  the  state 
and  national  Legislatures  shall  become  infected,  the  fountain 
of  free  government  will  be  poisoned  at  its  source,  and  we  must 
end,  as  history  proves,  in  a  military  despotism.  A  democratic 
republic,  all  agree,  can  not  long  survive  unless  sustained  by 
public  virtue.  When  this  is  corrupted,  and  the  people  become 
venal,  there  is  a  canker  at  the  root  of  the  tree  of  liberty  which 
will  cause  it  to  wither  and  to  die." 

For  the  utterance  of  truths  like  thes, ,,  and  as  if  to  prove, 
without  intending  it,  and  by  a  very  round-about  method,  that 
they  are  truths,  although  unpalatable,  Mr.  Buchanan  has  been 
held  up  to  ridicule  by  his  party  opponents,  condemned  as  an 
"  old  fogy,"  and  proclaimed  to  be  too  slow  for  the  age  in  which 
he  lives.     But  if  corruption  have  attained  its  present  growth 
with  a  population  so  scant,  in  a  country  by  the  cultivation  of 
which  ten  times  the  number  could  live  honestly  and  independ- 
entlyj  if  they  trusted  to  hard  work,  and  not  to  intrigue,  for  the 
means  of  subsistence,  what  will  be  the  extent  of  corruption 
fifty  years  hence  ?    Shall  a  despotism  attempt  a  remedy  worse 
than  the  disease  ?     Or  will  the  patient  be  warned  of  the  evil 
of  his  ways,  and  amend  his  life  in  time  ?     But  if  these  may 
be  considered  the  views  of  a  Pessimist,  what  shall  the  Opti- 
mist make  of  the  picture?    Grant  that  no  foreign  war  brings 
into  the  field  a  European  coalition  against  the  United  States 
— a  coalition  that  would  infallibly  make  the  Americans  a  far 
morp  r;'arlike  people  than  they  are,  and  compel  them  to  turn 
their  thoughts  to  pipe-clay  and  the  rifle,  and  to  the  admiration 
of  generals  rather  than  of  statesmen  and  orators ;  grant,  also, 
that  public  virtue  becomes  of  the  true  republican  standard  of 
ancient  days,  pure  gold  without  alloy ;  grant,  moreover,  that 
slavery  is  peaceably  abolished,  or  dies  out  and  ceases  to  trouble 
the  men  of  the  twentieth  century,  is  there  no  danger  to  the 


i  1 '. 


\  u 


i-f  .  s' 


324 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


:V''0. 


-'^'^''^''M 


cohesion  of  the  TTnion,  resulting  entirely  from  Its  physical  mag- 
nitude"?  It  is  not  likely  cither  by  fair  means  or  by  foul  to  an- 
nex Canada,  for  the  Canadians  feel  that  they  have  a  destiny 
of  their  own  to  accomplish,  and  that  they  start  without  the 
great  burden  of  slavery  to .  impede  their  progress  ;  but  the 
United  States  will  certainly  annex  to  themselves  all  the  mori- 
bund republics  between  Texas  and  Panama,  including,  of 
course,  the  whole  of  Mexico.  The  Union  already  extends  to 
the  shores  of  the  Pacific,  though  the  intervening  spaces  are 
not  filled  up.  It  takes  a  representative  for  California  three 
times  as  long  to  reach  Washington  as  it  takes  a  New  Yorker 
or  a  Bostonian  to  visit  Liverpool,  London,  or  Paris.  Is  there 
no  danger  in  this  ?  Is  not  the  prospective  unwieldiness  of  the 
Union  a  reason  why  it  may  be  expected  to  break  up  into  com- 
partments a  little  more  manageable,  and  resolve  itself  into  at 
least  three  or  four  federations  instead  of  one  ?  The  time  may 
come  when  the  New  England  States,  weary  of  participaJti  ig 
in  the  slavery  which  they  can  not  abolish,  may  seek  to  effect 
u  legislative  union  with  Canada ;  when  New  York  and  the 
Middle  and  Western  States  may  form  another  constellation 
of  republics ;  and  when  the  South,  extending  to  Panama,  may 
cultivate  its  "domestic  institution"  and  cotton  at  the  same 
time,  defying  North  or  West,  or  the  whole  world  to  trouble  it ; 
and  when  California  and  the  other  commonwealths  on  the  Pa- 
cific sea-board,  from  mere  considerations  of  distance  and  local- 
ity, may  set  up  in  business  for  themselves.  *  That  such  a  result 
would  be  injurious  to  the  cause  of  liberty  and  progress  in  the 
United  States,  there  is  not  the  slightest  reason  to  believe.  On 
the  contrary,  by  diminishing  the  chances  of  collision,  by  segre- 
gating the  incongruities  caused  by  climate,  character,  and  edu- 
cation into  related  but  not  identical  systems  ;  and  by  render- 
ing the  prizes  within  the  reach  of  military  ambition  less  glit- 
tering and  valuable  than  they  would  otherwise  be,  it  is  possible 
that  the  pacific  dissolution  of  the  Union,  for  reasons  as  cogent 
and  as  unimpassioned  as  these,  would  be  greatly  for  the  advan- 
tage of  the  Anglo-Saxon  races  in  America.  A  binary,  trinary, 
or  quadrinary  system  of  republics,  having  the  same  language, 
literature,  laws,  and  religion,  might  preserve  their  identity  as 


THE  FUTURE  OP  THE   UNITED  STATES. 


825 


republics,  and  yet  be  able  to  establish  and  consolidate  among 
themselves  a  balance  of  power,  by  means  of  which  no  one  of 
the  number  could,  under  any  circumstances,  Imj  perniitted  to 
declare  war  against  another,  just  in  the  same  way  as,  by  the 
present  Constitution  of  the  United  States,  JVIainc  can  not  de- 
clare war  again^it  Louisiana,  Maryland  against  Ohio,  or  New 
York  against  Oregon ;  or,  as  in  England,  Kent  can  not  take 
the  law  into  its  own  hands  to  remedy  any  grievance  it  might 
chance  to  have  against  Pembroke  or  Merioneth.     So  far  from 
the  indivisibility  and  inviolability  of  the  Union  tending  to  the 
happiness  or  advancement  of  the  race  by  whose  energy  and 
enterprise  it  has  been  established,  it  would  seem,  on  the  con- 
trary, as  if  its  very  bulk  would  lead  it  into  mischief,  independ- 
ently of  those  other  causes  of  evil  which  wise  and  prudent 
statesmanship,  looking  beyond  to-day  at  the  possibilities  of  to- 
morrow, may  endeavor  to  remove.     The  United  States  of 
America  are  but  the  first  step  in  a  great  progression,  of  which 
the  next  may  be  the  "  United  Republics  of  America."     Why 
not  ?    And  yet  it  is  vain  to  ask,  for  the  present  age  can  give  no 
answer  to  the  inquiry.     But  the  men  of  the  present  age  may, 
at  all  events,  be  allowed  to  calculate  the  chances  of  the  next ; 
and  that  this  is  one  of  the  most  important  of  them,  no  one 
who  logks  intelligently  at  the  actual  condition  of  Christendom 
can  permit  himself  to  doubt.  « 


4 

ft 


w 


CANADA. 


ciiArrEii  XXXVII. 


FROM   ALBiVNY   TO   MONTREAL. 


April,  1858. 
From  Albany  to  Montreal,  the  commercial  metropolis  of 
tlie  Canadas,  is  a  ride  of  254  miles  ;  a  long  distance  if  meas- 
ured by  time,  for  the  express  trains  upon  American  railways, 
so  far  from  equaling  the  speed  attained  in  England,  seldom 
average  more  than  twenty  miles  an  hour.  Leaving  Albanv 
late  in  the  afternoon,  our  train  halted,  after  having  made  nine- 
ty miles,  at  Rutland,  in  Vermont,  where  the  passengers  had 
to  sleep  for  the  night.  In  this  distance  an  incident  occurred, 
of  no  particular  importance  in  itself,  but  interesting  to  a  stran- 
ger and  worth  recording,  as  showing  the  free-and-easy  man- 
ner in  which  some  public  affairs  are  managed  in  America,  and 
how  much  more  of  a  leveling  institution  the  railway  is  some- 
times made  to  be  in  the  New  World  than  it  ever  can  be  in 
the  Old.  I  had  taken  my  place  in  the  car  at  the  extreme 
end,  where  there  is  but  room  for  one  person  on  the  seat,  but 
with  accommodation  opposite  for  two.  A  traveler  shortly 
afterward  deposited  his  overcoat  upon  one  of  these  seats  to 
retain  possession.  In  about  three  m.  nutes  afterward  a  stout, 
burly  personage  entered  the  car,  leading  in  a  white  man  and 
a  negro,  fettered,  and  manacled  together.  This  was  the  first 
time  during  my  travels  in  the  States  that  I  had  ever  observed 
a  colored  man  in  a  public  vehicle.  Approaching  my  place, 
the  burly  individual  in  charge,  whom  I  supposed  to  be  a  con- 
stable, but  who  called  himself  the  sheriff,  coolly  threw  upon 
the  floor  the  coat  left  by  the  intending  traveler,  and  directed 
his  white  and  black  prisoners  to  take  possession  of  the  two 


FROM  ALBANY  TO  MONTREAL. 


827 


April,  1858. 
nctropoUs  of 
ancc  if  meas- 
can  railways, 
trland,  seldom 
aving  Albany 
ng  made  nine- 
assengers  had 
dent  occurred, 
ling  to  a  stran- 
md-easy  man- 
America,  and 
ilway  is  some- 
;ver  can  be  in 
the  extreme 
the  seat,  but 
javeler  shortly 
;hese  seats  to 
•ward  a  stout, 
hite  man  and 
was  the  first 
ever  observed 
ing  my  place, 
Id  to  be  a  con- 
iy  threw  upon 
■,  and  directed 
.on  of  the  two 


peats.  I  told  him  that  one  of  the  scats  wiis  cngapod.  "  I 
can't  help  that,"  he  replied  ;  ''  it's  doubly  engaged  n»)W  by  my 
prisoners."  Not  dej<lious  of  such  close  proximity  cithor  to  u 
white  or  a  black  felon,  I  looked  around  the  car  in  search  of 
niore  agreeable  accommodation,  but  all  the  scats  were  tilled. 
Kcsolving  to  make  the  best  of  a  disagreeable  business,  I  took 
refuge  in  the  perusal  of  a  book,  and  hoped  that  I  should  soon 
be  relieved  from  such  uncomfortable  companionship  by  the  ar- 
rival of  the  captives  at  their  place  of  destination. 

"  What  have  these  chaps  been  a  doin',  sherilF?"  said  a  trav- 
eler to  me,  turning  his  quid  in  his  mouth. 

"I  am  not  the  sheriti',"  I  replied.  "If  I  were,  I  think  I 
should  travel  with  my  prisoners  somewhere  else  than  in  tho 
public  carriage." 

"  Well,  it  a'n'fc  pleasant,"  he  rejoined,  "  especially  when  one 
of  'em's  a  nigger.  What  have  you  been  a  doin'  on,  Sambo  1" 
he  added,  turning  suddenly  to  the  negro. 

"  Nulfin  at  all,  massa,"  was  the  reply.  "  I'm  innocent,  and 
did  nuffin,  and  am  got  two  years  for  it." 

The  white  prisoner  made  no  observation ;  and,  the  real 
sheriff  making  his  appearance  at  this  moment,  my  interlocutor 
assailed  him  with  a  cannonade  of  inquiries,  and  elicited  tho 
whole  of  the  circumstances.  The  white  man — a  well-formed 
youth,  scarcely  twenty  years  of  age,  with  a  countenance  by  no 
means  unprepossessing — had  committed  a  desperate  highway 
robbery,  and,  after  having  nearly  killed  a  man,  had  rifled  him 
of  all  his  money,  amounting  to  no  more  than  seventy-five  cents, 
or  three  shillings.  For  this  crime  he  had  been  sentenced  to 
ten  years'  imprisonment.  The  negro  had  been  implicated, 
with  a  woman  of  bad  character,  in  robbing  a  sailor  of  thirty 
dollars,  and  had  been  sentenced  to  two  years'  imprisonment. 
The  negro  was  loud  in  his  complaints  of  the  injustice  of  his 
punishment,  but  the  white  man  refused  to  enter  into  any  con- 
versation upon  the  subject ;  not  because  he  was  dogged  or  ob- 
stinate, but  apparently  because  he  knew  that  his  sentence  was 
just,  and  that  the  less  he  said  about  it  the  less  there  would  be 
of  hypocrisy  in  his  behavior.  lie  was  exceedingly  gracious 
to  his  black  companion,  and  several  times  took  a  large  cake 


I 

1 .  ■ 


■  I'  i- 


328 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA, 


li'W-? 


of  chewing-tobacco  out  of  a  f^idc-pockct  of  his  coat  and  offered 
it  to  the  negro.  Tlic  two  chewed  together  in  nympathy  of 
sorrow,  and  contributed  (juite  as  largely  as  any  two  freemen 
present — perhaps  a  little  more  so — to  the  copious  saliva  upon 
the  floor.  The  "  sheriff,"  in  this  respect,  kept  them  company, 
and  condescended  to  accept  from  the  highwayman  the  luxury 
of  a  chaw. 

"  Will  he  have  any  of  that  in  prison  ?'*  I  inquired. 

"No,  poor  devil!"  said  the  sheriff;  and,  as  if  that  were 
the  most  grievous  part  of  his  sentence,  "no,  not  for  ten 
years." 

Next  morning,  on  starting  from  Rutland  for  Montreal,  I 
secured  a  seat  at  a  distance  from  the  officer  of  tlie  law  and 
his  prisoners,  and  saw  no  more  of  them.  Our  train  sped 
near  or  through  the  cities  of  Vergennes,  Burlington,  and  St. 
Albans,  and  amid  the  beautiful  scenery  of  the  Green  Mount- 
ains. The  weather,  though  it  was  the  second  week  of  Ap^il, 
was  exceedingly  cold,  and  the  tops  and  slopes  of  the  Green 
Mountains  were  covered  with  snow ;  but  in  the  valleys  the 
neat  white  cottages  and  villas,  and  still  neater  white  churches 
of  the  descendants  of  the  ancient  Puritans,  built  of  wood,  but 
painted  to  imitate  stone,  gleamed  cheerily  in  the  sunshine. 
But  the  farther  north  we  went  the  thicker  lay  the  snow; 
and,  on  arriving  at  the  shores  of  Lake  Champlain,  not  one  of 
the  largest,  but  perhaps  the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  American 
lakes,  "we  saw  innumerable  blocks  of  floating  ice  upon  the 
water.  From  Whitehall,  at  its  southern  extremity,  where  it 
is  no  wider  than  a  river,  to  Rouse's  Point,  at  its  northern  term- 
ination. Lake  Champlain  extends  for  nearly  150  miles.  In 
some  parts  it  is  twenty  miles  in  width,  and  in  other  parts 
varies  from  one  mile  to  ten  or  twelve.  In  the  summer  it  isj 
traversed  by  numerous  fine  steam-boats,  but  at  this  early 
period  of  the  year  they  had  not  commenced  their  trips,  and 
the  only  mode  of  conveyance  was  the  dreary  rail  and  the  suf- 
focating car.  Before  arriving  at  Rouse's  Point  the  rails 
cross  Lake  Champlain  twice,  the  transit  on  each  occasion  af- 
fording to  the  passengers  magnificent  views  over  its  beautiful 
expanse. 


"f^^- 


FUOM  ALBANY  TO   MONTREAL. 


829 


At  Rouse's  Point  I  took  my  farewell  of  the  territory  of  the 
United  States,  and  entered  into  tlie  dominions  of  her  majesty 
(^iieen  Victoria.     I'hi.s  important  station  ou<jht  to  have  be- 
longed to  Canada,  and  would  have  done  so  if  Ix)rd  Ashburton, 
di.-patchcd  ^>y  our  government  in  184G  to  settle  the  Oregon 
and  Maine  boundaries,  then  in  dispute  between  the  two  na- 
tions, had  Ixjen  any  thing  like  a  match  in  intellect,  in  dexter- 
ity, in  logic,  or  in  purpose  to  the  astute  lawyer,  Daniel  Web- 
ster, against  whom  he  was  pitted.     But  the  iJritish  lord,  half 
an  American  in  heart,  and  perhaps  allied  too  closely  to  the 
trading  interests  of  the  great  house  of  liaring  Brothers  to  see 
things  in  their  true  light  as  regarded  cither  Great  Britain  or 
Canada,  was  of  no  more  account  than  a  piece  of  red  tape  or  a 
stick  to  be  whittled  in  the  hands  of  the  great  Yankee  lawyer 
and  orator.     Not  only  Rouse's  Point — a  place  of  great  stra- 
tegical importance — but  the  larger  portion  of  the  State  of 
Maine,  and  with  it  the  free  access  of  Canadian  traffic  to  the 
ocean  in  mid-winter,  when  the  St.  Lawrence  is  closed  up  by 
the  ice,  were  thus  lost  to  Canada,  and  all  because  Great 
Britain,  ignorant  of  Canada  and  of  its  vast  importance,  sent 
a  good-natured  and  incompetent  lord  to  make  himself  agree- 
able to  Brother  Jonathan,  and  settle  a  business  which  neither 
he  nor  the  home  government  understood  any  thing  about,  ex- 
cept that  it  was  troublesome.     Let  all  true  Englishmen  fer- 
vently pray  that  war  between  the  United  States  and  Great 
Britain  will  never  arise  to  make  the  Canadians  rue  the  day 
when  their  interests  were  so  grossly  sacrificed  by  a  man  who 
knew  so  little  about  them,  and  by  a  government  that  scarcely 
deserved  to  retain  so  splendid  a  colony, 

From  Rouse's  Point  the  rail  stretches  to  the  Canadian  vil- 
lage of  Caughnawaga,  on  the  St.  Lawrence.  This  village  is 
inhabited  wholly  by  the  Indian  tribe  that  forms  almost  the 
sole  remnant  of  the  once-powerful  Iroquois.  These  Indians, 
who  have  a  strong  family  resemblance  to  the  Gipsies  of 
Europe,  and  who  pretend  to  tell  fortunes  in  the  same  manner 
by  palmistry,  are  the  sole  recognized  pilots  of  the  Rapids. 
To  the  emoluments  which  they  derive  from  this  source  they 
add  the  profits  gained  by  the  manufacture  of  moccasins,  leg- 


!. 


\,: 


''im' 


880 


LIFE  AND  LIDEIITY  IN  AMERICA. 


.-t^s-; 


wy  ' 


pin«,  bead  pun«o««,  nnd  other  fancy  work,  in  which  thoir  women 
more  psirticuhirly  excel.  Here  our  passenfiers  had  to  k'avi; 
the  rail  and  embark  on  the  steamer  to  cross  the  St.  Ijiwrenco 
to  Laehine.  'J'his  place  is  situated  near  the  eeli'brate<l  Kapids 
of  the  same  name.  Here  the  lond  cry  of  "All  aboord!" — 
universal  in  America — summoned  us  to  lake  our  places  onc(> 
more  in  the  railway  cars;  and,  after  a  journey  of  some  miles, 
wc  arrived  at  the  venerable,  picturesque,  and  flourishing  city 
of  Montreal. 

In  the  United  States  tho  towns  arc  so  much  alike  in  their 
architectural  and  general  appearance  as  to  cease  very  speedi- 
ly to  have  much  interest  for  the  traveler  beyond  that  inspired 
by  history,  or  by  the  remembrance  of  the  kind  friends  who 
reside  in  them.  The  only  pron)inent  exceptions  within  thu 
compass  of  my  experience  were  New  Orleans  and  Boston — 
far  apart,  it  is  true,  but  suggesting  reminiscences  of  Europe, 
cither  by  tho  crooked  picturcsqueness  of  their  streets,  or,  as 
in  New  Orleans,  by  the  foreign  names  and  costume  of  the  peo- 
ple, and  the  style  of  building.  But  Montreal  combines,  to 
European  eyes,  all  these  sources  of  interest,  and  has  features 
of  its  own  which  give  it  a  character  quite  distinct  from  that 
of  any  other  place  on  the  American  continent  except  Quebec. 
Let  mc  not  be  accused  of  narrowness  of  mind  and  sympathy, 
or  of  an  undue  and  unwarrantable  feeling  of  nationality,  if  I 
avow  that  I  experienced  a  sensation  of  pride  and  satisfaction, 
after  a  six  months'  tour  in  a  country  where  I  was  made  to 
feci  that  I  was  a  "  foreigner,"  on  once  again  setting  my  foot 
upon  British  territory,  upon  seeing  the  familiar  standard  of 
England  floating  from  the  public  buildings,  and  noticing  the 
well-known  red  coats  of  the  British  soldiers  who  were  doing 
duty  in  the  streets.  To  pass  from  Rouse's  Point  to  Canadian 
soil  was  like  crossing  the  Atlantic  in  the  difference  which  it 
made  in  my  patriotic  sentiments — or  prejudices,  if  they  de- 
serve the  latter  name.  I  felt  almost  as  much  at  home  in  Mon- 
treal as  if  I  had  landed  in  Liverpool.  To  me  the  Canadians 
were  Englishmen,  not  Americans.  And  one  of  the  most  no- 
ticeable things  in  Canada,  with  which  a  stranger  can  scarce- 
ly fail  to  be  impressed  before  he  has  been  a  week  in  the  coun- 


FROM  ALBANY  TO   MONTUEAL. 


831 


tboir  women 
liiul  to  K'iivu 
St.  TiUwrciuT 
jratcd  Kin>i(lrt 
I  aboord!"— 
ir  places  onco 
jf  some  miU's, 
ourishinjj  •ity 

alike  in  their 
!C  very  specdi- 
\  that  inspired 
id  frieiulrt  who 
ma  within  the 
and  Boston — 
ices  of  Europe, 
•  streets,  ov,  iw 
ume  of  the  pco- 
x\  combines,  to 
nd  has  features 
tinct  from  that 
except  Quebec, 
and  sympathy, 
lationality,  if  I 
md  satisfaction, 
;  was  made  to 
setting  my  foot 
iar  standard  of 
nd  noticing  the 
vho  were  doing 
int  to  Canadian 
ercncc  which  it 
COS,  if  they  dc- 
t  home  in  Mon- 
the  Canadians 
of  the  most  no- 
lorer  can  scarce- 
;ek  in  the  coun- 


try, is  not  exactly  the  antipathy,  but  the  cMranfrrmPnt  which 
luis  Hprung  up  bctweon   the  people  of  the  I  niti-d  Slates  and 
those   of  the    liritish  possessions.     During   the   last    twenty 
ycai-s  the  line  of  moral  and  jHtlitical  deniarkation  belwi-cn  the 
two  seems  to  have  been  grailiuiliy  lengthone«l  and  strengthen- 
ed.    The  explanation  is,  that  the  less  heavily  the  yoke  of  the 
mother  country  has  been  nUowed  to  bear  upon  the  colony,  the 
more  affectionately  the  colony  has  clung  to  the  old  lan<l,  from 
whose  best  blood  she  has  sprung,  and  by  whose  gentle  exam- 
ple she  is  governed.     So  far  from  expressing  a  desire  for  an- 
nexation to  or  incorporation  with  the  I'nited  States,  the  Ca- 
nadians insist  in  the  most  fervid  manner  upon  their  separate 
and  irreconcilable  nationality.     Not  unfrerpiently,  when  hard 
driven  by  ultra-Kcpublican  orators  of  the  "Spread  Kaglc" 
gchool,  they  declare  it  to  be  far  more  probable,  if  ever  a  split 
take  place  in  the  Union,  or  a  war  break  out  betwixt  the 
United  States  and  Great  Britain,  that  Vermont,  iMaine,  Con- 
necticut, Khode  Island,  and  Mn'^sachusetts  will  claim  incorpo- 
ration with  the  Canadas,  than  that  the  Canadas  will  claim  in- 
corporation with  the  Republic  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes,  and 
so  inherit  the  heavy  responsibilities  of  slavery,  without  deriv- 
ing any  real  advantage   from  association  with   the  North. 
When  an  ovcrzealous  American  so  far  forgets  liis  manners  as 
to  talk  of  annexation  in  the  company  of  Canadians,  the  reply 
not  unfrequently  takes  the  somewhat  contemptuous  turn  that 
the  Hudson  is  the  natural  boundary  of  Canada,  and  that,  if 
annexation  be  either  necessary  or  desirable,  Canada  may  some 
day  take  the  initiative,  and  seize  upon  ISIainc  and  the  harbor 
of  Portland.     I  have  witnessed  more  than   one  Yankee  so 
taken  aback  at  the  daring  of  the  suggestion  as  to  give  up  the 
struggle  without  any  farther  parley,  except,  perhaps,  between 
two  chaws  or  two  whifFs,  such  slang  phrase  as  "  I  guess  that's 
coming  it  strong — raytherl"  or  "Brother  Jonathan's  not 
green  enough  to  be  done." 

Montreal,  generally  pronounced  Montre-all,  is  one  of  the 
most  ancient  cities  of  North  America,  having  been  founded  in 
the  year  1042.  It  contains  a  population  of  about  70,000. 
It  is  beautifully  and  solidly  built  of  stone,  and  wears  a  general 


1:^ 


I- 

n 


882 


LIFE  AND   LIBEKTV  IX   AMEUICA. 


ftir  nnd  ftf»pcrt  of  strength  l)cfitting  the  crimntc.  By  tlio 
French  Itoman  Catholics,  who  form  nearly  one  half  of  thu 
population,  it  is  ciiUcd  aflcctionatcly  the  "  Villc  Marie,"  or 
town  of  the  Viri^in  Mary,  and  the  names  of  its  principal 
Htrcctn,  derived  from  those  of  the  saints  in  the  Komish  calen- 
dar, bear  witness  alike  to  the  fervency  and  to  the  faith  of  its 
founders.  The  orij^inal  Indian  imme,  or  rather  that  of  the 
village  on  the  site  of  which  it  is  built,  was  llochclaga,  a  name 
Htill  given  to  it  by  poets,  and  by  orators  who  desire  to  speak 
grandiloquently.  Its  French  and  liritish  name  of  Montreal 
is  derived  from  that  of  the  large  island  in  the  St.  Lawrence, 
on  the  southeni  base  of  which  it  is  built,  and  in  English  ought 
properly  to  be  Mount  Koyal.  Its  gray  limestone  embank- 
ments on  the  St.  Lawrence — its  long,  substantial  quays  and 
wharves — its  noble  cathedral  with  the  two  tall  towers  (the 
most  imposing -looking  ecclesiastical  edifice  on  the  North 
Amencau  continent,  unless  Mexico  offer  exceptions) -»— its 
stately  Market-hall  of  15on  Secours,  a  prominent  object  either 
in  near  or  remote  views  of  the  city — its  elegant  public  edifices, 
banks,  nunneries,  monasteries,  and  churches — and,  above  all, 
the  Victoria  Tubular  Bridge,  the  most  gigantic  work  of  science 
and  enterprise  on  the  habitable  globe — all  combine  to  render 
Montreal  either  important  or  picturesque,  and  to  give  it  an 
enduring  place  in  the  memory  of  all  who  visit  it. 

The  island  of  Montreal,  or  the  Royal  Mountain,  is  about 
thirty  miles  long,  and  in  some  parts  eight  or  nine  wide,  and 
rises  in  the  centre  to  a  height  of  about  900  feet.  It  has  been 
called  from  its  fertility  the  Garden  of  Canada,  but  •whether 
the  compliment  be  deserved  is  matter  of  dispute  among  scicn- 
titic  agriculturists.  Against  the  northern  shore  of  the  island 
beats  the  strong  and  turbid  current  of  the  Ottawa ;  and  against 
the  southern  shore,  where  Montreal  rears  its  busy  streets, 
rushes  the  stronger  and  clearer  current  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 
These  powerful  streams  unite  about  eighteen  miles  westward 
of  the  city,  but  refuse  to  commingle  their  waters  until  they 
have  traveled  beyond  the  mountain  isle  in  their  progress  to- 
ward Quebec.  The  bases  of  the  mountain  arc  gi-adually  being 
occupied  by  the  houses  and  villas  of  the  wealthier  inhabitants 


A' 


FROM  ALBANY  TO  MONTREAL. 


333 


(»f  Montreal.      In  Rosoinount — ono  of  tl u'fo — it  wn*  mv  j;;o<m1 
(ortiinc  to  enjoy  for  three  >veek»  the  generous  hoHp'ttulity  of 
the  Hon.  John  Youn*;,  Into  one  of  the  n'prt'.^Mitativc.M  of  ^Ior^t- 
reol   in   the   Cuniuhun   Purliument,  and  Mini.<4ter  of  rublie 
Works,  and  to  obtain  thron;j;li  his  p)od  oMicoH  a  greater  in- 
sight into  the  real  condition  of  Canada,  and  of  the  city  of 
Montreal,  than  I  could  hnvc  procured  without  such  aid  in  a 
much  longer  sojourn  in  the  country.     The  view  above  Kosc- 
mount,  toward  the  summit  of  the  mountain,  stretches  over  a 
wide  expanse  of  fertile  country,  and  away  to  the  Green  Hills 
of  "Vermont  and  the  State  of  New  York,  the  St.  Lawrence 
rolling  its  majestic  tide  through  the  valley,  and  sounding  a 
music  from  the  Kapidsof  Lachine,  nine  miles  distant,  far  louder 
than  the  roar  and  rumble  of  the  adjoining  city.     Its  carrying 
and  forwarding  trade,  as  a  port  competing  with  New  Y'ork  for 
the  European  commerce  of  the  Far  West,  constitutes  the  prin- 
cipal business  of  Montreal.     As  such  it  possesses  few  manu- 
factures ;  but  it  has  a  growing  trade  in  potash  and  pearlash, 
and  one  more  recently  established  in  those  luxuries — so  dear 
to  the  Anglo-Saxon — bitter  ale  and  porter.     Its  average  ex- 
ports of  potash  and  pearlash  amount  to  about  £300,000  per 
annum ;  and  in  the  year  1857  they  reached  £400,000.     The 
farmers  in  the  back  woods,  and  in  newl\  -cleared  or  half-clear- 
ed '  lids,  add  considerably  to  their  resources  by  the  sale  of  this 
portion  of  their  produce.     For  the  testing  of  the  strength  of 
thtse  two  valuable  commodities,  inspectors  are  appointed  by 
the  government. '    By  the  courtesy  of  one  of  these  gentlemen, 
I  was  shown  over  the  establishment  whence  all  this  agricul- 
tural wealth  is  distributed  over  the  world,  and  initiated  for 
the  first  time  into  the  previously  unsuspected  mysteries  of 
burnt  timber  and  boiled  as!  >  -. 

The  brewery  and  distillerv  recently  established  at  Montreal, 
where  there  are  no  excisemen  to  interfere  with  the  manufac- 
ture and  increase  the  cost  of  the  articles,  are  under  the  super- 
intendence of  proprietors  who  learned  the  mysteries  of  their 
art  in  London  and  Burton-upon-Trent,  and  who  have  suc- 
ceeded in  producing  bitter  ales  far  superior  to  the  lager  beer 
of  the  United  States,  and  almost,  if  not  quite,  equal  to  the  ales 
of  Meesrs.  Bass  or  Allsop. 


|.. 


884 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


:-  m 


h'T^    '- 


r^i 


Much  has  been  done  of  late  years  to  develop  the  capabilities 
of  the  harbor  of  Montreal,  and  when  the  Victoria  Tubular 
Bridge — already  the  pride  and  chief  ornament  of  the  city — 
fhall  have  been  opened  for  the  traffic  of  the  Grand  Trunk 
Kailway,  it  will  become,  to  a  larger  extent  than  it  is  at  pres- 
ent, the  rival  of  New  York  and  Boston.  The  idea  of  bridging 
the  St.  Lawrence  Kiver  at  Montreal  is  of  older  date  than  is 
generally  known.  The  Honorable  John  Young  was,  perhaps, 
the  most  zealous  and  untiring  in  his  endeavors  to  bring  the 
subject  prominently  before  the  world.  More  than  one  engi- 
neer of  eminence  in  America  was  referred  to  and  consulted  by 
him  before  any  steps  were  taken  to  bring  the  subject  before 
the  public.  Surveys,  examinations,  and  various  reports  re- 
sulted from  these — differing,  of  course,  somewhat  in  their  de- 
tails, but  generally  recommending  timber  structures  similar  to 
those  invariably  resorted  to  in  the  United  States  for  bridging 
the  great  rivers.  Nothing  in  connection  with  the  Tubular 
Bridge  had  ripened  into  maturity  until  the  project  of  the 
Grand  Trunk  Railway  had  been  propounded  and  urged  on  by 
the  provincial  government  in  1852.  The  Honorable  Francis 
Hincks  (being  then  prime  minister  and  inspector-general  of 
Canada)  and  Mr.  Young  (being  at  the  same  time  a  member  of 
his  administration),  after  several  fruitless  endeavors  to  interest 
the  imperial  government  to  aid  in  furthering  their  objects, 
which  had  in  view  the  accomplishment  of  an  international 
railway,  extending  from  Halifax  to  the  western  extremity  of 
Canada,  ultimately  resolved  to  invite  private  English  capital- 
ists to  undertake  the  great  work  of  the  Grand  Trunk  Railway 
in  so  far,  at  least,  as  Canada  was  concerned.  For  this  pur- 
pose the  province  undertook  to  provide  thirty  per  cent,  of  the 
capital  required,  and  with  this  impetus  the  Grand  Trunk 
Railway  assumed  in  due  time  the  proportions  of  a  palpable 
and  beneficial  fact. 

In  July,  1853,  Mr.  Stephenson,  the  engineer,  visited  Canada 
for  the  purpose  of  finally  fixing  the  most  eligible  site,  and  de- 
termining the  dimensions  and  general  character  of  the  Tubu- 
lar Bridge ;  and,  having  communicated  his  ideas  to  Mr.  A.  M. 
Ross,  who,  in  accordance  with  them,  prepared  and  arranged 


le  capabilities 
oria  Tubular 
of  the  city — 
Grand  Trunk 
I  it  is  at  pres- 
ea  of  bridging 
r  date  than  is 
was,  perhaps, 
s  to  bring  the 
than  one  cngi- 
d  consulted  by 
subject  before 
•us  reports  re- 
lat  in  their  de- 
tures  similar  to 
tes  for  bridging 
,h  the  Tubular 
project  of  the 
md  urged  on  by 
lorable  Francis 
ctor-general  of 
iC  a  member  of 
,vors  to  interest 
their  objects, 
in  international 
n  extremity  of 
Inglish  capital- 
JTrunk  Railway 
For  this  pur- 
per  cent,  of  the 
Grand  Trunk 
|s  of  a  palpable 

I  visited  Canada 
\>\e  site,  and  de- 
er of  the  Tuba- 
ls to  Mr.  A.  M. 
and  arranged 


I 


:    If 

k^  il 


?  •  'i  I 

U   i  ■ 

9     !'  H 


i  f-  i 


TO  THE  TOP  OF  BEL  (EIL. 


387 


nil  the  information  required,  the  result,  in  a  very  little  time, 
was  the  adoption  of  the  structure  now  far  advanced  to  com- 
pletion, and  which  promises  to  be  the  greatest  triumph  of  en- 
gineering skill  of  which  cither  the  Old  World  or  the  New  can 
boast. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 


TO    THE    TOP    OF    BEL    OCIL. 


Montreal. 
Looking  southward  from  Rose  Mount,  on  the  sunny  slope 
of  the  great  hill  of  Montreal,  the  most  conspicuous  object  in 
the  distant  landscape  is  the  mountain  of  Bel  G'^il,  commonly, 
but  erroneously  called  Bel  Isle.     To  scale  its  heights,  and 
visit  the  lake  near  its  summit,  was  an  expedition  which  I  fan- 
cied might  be  easily  performed  on  foot,  and  back  again  in  one 
day.     The  idea  was  no  sooner  mentioned  than  scouted  by  my 
excellent  host.     Near  though  the  mountain  looked,  its  appar- 
ent proximity  was  the  effect  of  the  pure  Canadian  atmosphere 
upon  the  eyes  of  one  not  accustomed  to  measure  distances 
tbrough  such  a  transparent  medium.     Instead  of  being  no 
more  than  nine  or  ten  miles  from  the  city  of  Montreal,  as  I 
had  calculated,  the  nearest  point  of  approach  to  Bel  CEil  was 
at  the  railway  station  of  St.  Hilaire,  seventeen  miles  from 
Longueil,  on  the  opposite  shore  of  the  St.  Lawrence.     The 
river  itself  being  nearly  two  miles  wide,  and  Rose  Mount  be- 
ing two  miles  from  the  Montreal  shore,  the  distance  to  St. 
Hilaire  was,  according  to  all  methods  of  computation,  Euro- 
pean or  American,  twenty-one  miles.     From  St.  Hilaire  to 
the  centre  of  Bel  CEil  was  nine  miles  more,  or  thirty  altogether 
from  point  to  point.     Thus  it  was  clearly  out  of  the  question 
to  make  the  excursion  on  foot.     Thirty  miles  out  and  thirty 
miles  in,  even  if  wo  had  taken  two  days  to  the  excursion,  were 
too  many  for  pleasure.     But  the  difficulty  was  overcome,  as 
most  difficulties  may  be,  by  a  little  management.     The  Grand 
Trunk  Railway  of  Canada  kindly  placed  a  special  train  to 
and  from  St.  Hilaire  at  our  disposal,  and  our  party  of  three, 


3f- 


838 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


Mr.  Young,  Mr.  Andrew  Robertson,  solicitor  and  barrister  (for 
legal  gentlemen  combine  both  branches  of  the  law  in  the  United 
States  and  the  colonies),  and  myself,  started  to  dine  al  fresco 
on  the  top  of  the  mountfiin.  The  weather  was  propitious 
and  Canada  is  not  in  this  respect  like  the  Old  Country.  When 
a  day  begins  favorably  it  ends  favorably  in  ninety-nine  in- 
stances out  of  a  hundred,  so  that  a  preconcerted  picnic  is  not 
likely  to  be  disturbed  in  Canada,  as  it  is  almost  certain  to  be 
in  any  part  of  the  British  Isles. 

Our  hamper,  thanks  to  the  provident  thoughtfulness  and 
liberal  reckoning  up  of  our  wants,  which  only  a  kindly-hearted 
woman  could  have  so  well  appreciated,  was  abundantly  stored 
with  br^ad,  biscuits,  cheese,  sandwiches,  tongue,  chickens,  and 
l)3ef,  besides  pale  ale,  pale  brandy.  Champagne,  and  Sparkling 
Catawba.     Not  the  smallest  minutias  were  forgotten.     Even 
tumblers,  salt,  and  a  corkscrew  were  included  in  the  reper- 
tory.    We  had  to  cross  the  St.  Lawrence  in  a  wherry*,  vith 
two  oarsmen,  for  it  was  a  holiday,   and  the  only  morning 
steamer  across  to  Longueil  had  taken  its  departure  an  hour 
before  we  were  ready.     It  is  only  necessary  to  say  of  the  pas- 
sage across  that  we  had  to  make  it  diagonally,  and  so  to  double 
the  distance,  to  allow  for  the  strength  and  rapidity  of  the 
current ;  and  that  any  one  who  should  advise  a  future  traveler 
to  miss  the  steam  ferry-boat  for  the  chance  of  any  pleasure 
derivable  from  this  more  primitive  method  of  passing  the  great 
river,  would  l5e  a  mauvais  farceur  and  a  false  friend.     Arrived 
at  Longueil,  we  found  the  steam  up  and  our  train  ready,  and 
in  less  than  throe  quarters  of  an  hour  were  safely  deposited  at 
St.  Hilaire,  at  the  base  of  the  mountain  which  loomed  lai^e 
before  us,  and  promised  us  from  its  steep  top  a  prospect  to  be 
enjoyed,  and  an  appetite  to  be  earned  by  hard  exercise;     Both 
of  these  blessings  were  duly  appreciated  at  their  appointed  sea- 
son.    The  road  lay  all  the  way  from  Longueil  through  the 
flats  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  of  its  tributary  the  Richelieu, 
the  northern  outlet  of  Lake  Champlain.     The  country  is  as 
level  as  Lincolnshire,  and  so  thickly  studded  with  farms  and 
villages  as  to  look  as  if  it  maintained  a  population  of  at  least 
half  a  million.     But  these  appearances  are  deceptive.    The 


1  barrister  (for 
/  in  the  United 
»  dine  al  fresco 
vas  propitious^ 
)untry.    When 
ninety-nine  in- 
cd  picnic  is  not 
)8t  certain  to  be 

ughtfulness  and 
a  kindly-hearted 
oundantly  stored 
ue,  chickens,  and 
le,  and  Sparkling 
forgotten.    Even 
led  in  the  reper- 
n  a  wherry*,  vith 
•he  only  morning 
[eparture  an  hour 
to  say  of  the  pas- 
,  and  so  to  double 
[d  rapidity  of  the 
,e  a  future  traveler 
;e  of  any  pleasure 
.f  passing  the  great 
,  friend.     Arrived 
ir  train  ready,  and 
safely  deposited  at 
'hich  loomed  large 
>p  a  prospect  to  be 
ird  exercise:    Both 
their  appointed  sea- 

igueil  through  the 
,ary  the  Eichelieu, 
The  country  is  as 
icd  with  farms  and 
.pulation  of  at  least 
re  deceptive.    The 


TO  THE  TOP  OP  BEL  (EIL, 


839 


subdivision  of  the  land,  each  family  on  its  own  plot,  with  the 
house  in  the  centre,  gives  ihe  idea  of  a  population  twonty  times 
denser  than  it  is  ;  and  the  soil  itself,  a  hard  clay,  has  been  im- 
poverished and  well-nigh  exhausted  of  what  original  fertility 
it  ever  possessed  by  the  bad  farming  of  the  JutbitanSf  conse- 
quent upon  the  perpetual  parceling  and  reparceling  of  the 
land,  and  the  non-employment  of  either  capital  or  science  to 
renew  its  over-taxed  capabilities.     It  is  Old  France  repeated 
over  again  in  New  France.     The  ignorant  husbandry ;   the 
unwise  attachment  to  the  paternal  nest,  or  pig-hole,  as  the 
case  may  be,  in  preference  to  better  spots  of  earth  at  a  hund- 
red, fifty,  or  even  twenty  miles  distance ;  and  a  limpet-like 
contentment  with  poor  diet,  and  the  enjoyment  of  the  good 
that  Fate  and  Chance  provide  on  the  original  rock,  in  prefer- 
ence to  a  greater  good  to  be  found  afar  off,  all  seem  to  com- 
bine to  keep  the  country  poor,  and  to  prove  the  ineradicable 
tendencies  of  race  and  religion.     Of  late  years  there  has  been 
a  slight  improvement,  a  few  Scotch  and  English  farmers  hav- 
ing found  their  way  into  the  valley,  and  introduced  a  better 
system  of  husbandry.     But,  owing  to  the  smallness  of  the 
farms,  and  their  constant  tendency  to  grow  smaller  from  gen- 
eration to  generation,  the  good  example  has  not  been  of  the 
efficacy  that  might  have  been  expected  under  other  circum- 
stances ;  yet,  superficially  considered,  a  congeries  of  happier- 
looking  communities  than  those  which  occupy  the  valley  of 
the  Richelieu  is  not  easily  to  be  found.     Socialism  without 
communism ;  contentm&nt  willing  to  sink  rather  than  exert 
itself;  a  poor  lot  on  earth  cheered  by  the  hope  of  a  happier 
lot  in  heaven — such  seem  the  characteristics  of  the  place,  and 
of  the  good,  docile,  honest,  and  amiable  people.     Their  great 
defect  is  that  they  lack  above  all  things  what  the  homely 
Scotch  proverb  calls  "  a  spice  of  the  devil  in  them  to  keep  the 
devil  out." 

Arrived  at  St.  Hilaire,  our  first  difliculty  was  how  we  should 
manage  to  carry  our  provisions  to  the  top  of  the  mountain. 
The  road  was  rough,  steep,  circuitous,  and  long ;  and  though 
the  crest  of  Bel  CEil  seemed  but  two  miles  off,  it  was,  in  real- 
ity, near  upon  nine.     To  carry  the  provender  ourselves  would 


i.fii> 


340 


LIFE  AND  LIBSRTT  IN  AMERICA. 


is  ' 


m 


m 


Ifei'. -'.v.. 


have  been  to  make  too  much  toil  of  a  Kinall  pleasure,  and  a 
stout  guide  fit  for  the  duty,  and  willing  to  undertiike  it  u|)on 
a  sjiint's  day  and  a  holiday,  was  not  eiu<ily  to  be  found  in  a 
country  where  «uch  festivals  were  highly  venerated  and  great- 
ly enjoyed.  Afler  nearly  an  liour's  inquiry  we  heard  of  an 
old  farmer  who  had  a  cart  and  a  pony,  who  would  drive  up 
as  far  as  the  lake — an  ancient  Jean  Baptiste,  as  Norman  in 
his  dress,  his  speech,  his  aspect,  and  his  ideas  as  if  we  had 
fallen  in  with  him  in  one  of  the  remote  villages  beyond  Uoucn 
or  Caen.  But  we  took  him  and  were  glad  of  him,  not  for  the 
sake  of  our  legs,  for  we  preferred  walking  to  riding,  but  for 
the  sake  of  the  provisions,  which  wo  could  not  otherwise  con- 
vey. Besides,  his  pony  was  lame,  and  his  cart  had  no  springs; 
and  so,  by  walking,  we  were  not  only  merciful  to  his  beast, 
but  to  our  own  bones.  The  road  skirted  the  basis  of  the 
hill,  and  the  ascent  was  gradual  for  three  or  four  miles,  in  the 
course  of  which  we  passed  a  greaf  number  of  small  hvtt  com- 
fortable-looking farm-houses,  many  gardens  and  orchards,  prin- 
cipally of  apple-trees,  bearing  the  famous  pommea  gvises  of 
Canada.  We  also  passed  many  groves  of  wild  maple,  the 
finest  trees  by  the  road-side,  having  each  the  well-known 
wounds,  and  the  rude  trough  on  the  ground  to  catch  the  juico 
that  flows  in  the  early  spring  when  they  are  tapped,  and  of 
which  the  habttans  manufacture  a  very  excellent  sugar  for 
home  consumption.  Indeed,  in  most  of  the  Northern  and 
Western  States  of  the  Union  and  throughout  Canada,  the 
maple  is  extensively  used  for  this  purpose,  and  is  not  only 
one  of  the  most  abundant  and  useful,  but  most  beautiful  trees 
of  the  country.  It  is  lovely  alike  in  spring,  summer,  and 
autumn.  In  autumn  more  especially  it  glows  and  glitters 
with  its  gold  and  crimson  leaves,  illuminated  by  the  first 
touch  of  frost,  and  lights  up  the  whole  landscape  with  a  glory 
of  color  unknown  in  Europe. 

Leaving  Jean  Baptiste,  his  cart,  his  pony,  our  hamper,  and 
.two  dogs,  which  had  persisted  in  following  us  all  the  way 
from  St.  Ililaire,  to  await  our  return  on  the  shore  of  the  lake. 
we  started  alone  through  the  pine  woods  for  about  a  mile  and 
a  half  to  the  summit  of  the  mountain.     The  lake,  which  ^ 


TO  THE  TOP  OF  BEL  (EIL, 


841 


casurc,  and  a 
jrliikc  it  i^wn 
be  found  in  iv 
itcd  and  great- 
c  heard  of  an 
krould  drive  up 
as  Norman  in 
l9  as  if  we  hud 
J  beyond  Rouen 
iiim,  not  for  the 
riding,  but  for 
;  otherwise  con- 
had  no  sprhiga ; 
ful  to  his  beast, 
the  basis  of  the 
bur  miles,  in  the 
•f  small  but  com- 
id  orchards,  prin- 
povimes  grises  of 
wild  maple,  the 
the  well-known 
to  catch  the  juice 
e  tapped,  and  of 
:cellent  sugar  for 
.ic  Northern  awl 
liout  Canada,  the 
and  is  not  only 
jst  beautiful  trees 
ling,  summer,  and 
rlows  and  glitters 
ated  by  the  first 
icape  with  a  glory 


about  two  miles  in  circumference,  and  dindiarges  iLs  overflow 
in  a  small  brook  that  runs  down  the  side  of  the  mountum  to- 
ward St.  Ililairc,  fills  the  hollow  of  what  seems  to  have  onco 
been  the  crater  of  a  volcano,  and,  though  shallow  on  its  banks, 
is  said  to  be  of  great  depth  in  tho  centre,  and  to  abomid  with 
very  excellent  trout. 

The  grass  had  not  begun  to  show  itself,  and  thci  ^  were 
considerable  drifts  and  wreaths  of  snow  in  tlio  pino  woods  and 
in  the  shaded  recesses  of  the  hills,  but  in  the  glades  where  the 
sunshine  could  penetrate,  and  wherever  there  was  a  southern 
aspect,  the  anemones  were  peeping  out  among  the  pine  spicule 
and  the  dead  leaves  of  the  last  autumn.    As  we  clomb  higher 
and  higher,  we  left  the  pino  woods  behind  us  for  the  bare, 
bard  rock,  and  at  last  stood  upon  the  wind-beaten  summit  of 
Bel  CEil.     Here,  in  the  clear  sunshine,  we  indulged  our  eyes 
with  a  goodly  prospect.     We  were  in  the  centre  of  a  circle 
of  at  least  100  miles  in  diameter,  and  could  see  on  the  far 
horizon  a  majestic  panorama  of  a  thousand  hills,  the  indented 
rim  of  t^.e  great  basin,  in  the  hollow  of  which  pierced  up 
our  mountain  top,  a  solitary  cone.     To  the  south  and  west 
stret     A  the  green  hills  of  Vermont,  and  tho  higher  peaks  of 
Lake  Champlain ;  and  to  the  north  and  east  the  long  Lau- 
rentian  range  which  forms  the  only  bulwark  between  Lower 
Canada  and  the  polar  blasts  that  sweep  from  Hudson's  Bay 
and  the  Arctic  Circle.     The  broad  St.  Lawrence  wound  its 
way  through  the  prospect  like  a  river  of  gold,  joined  by  the 
Richelieu,  a  smaller  but  equally  brilliant  thread  in  the  mazy 
web  of  beauty.     IMontreal,  with  the  twin  towers  of  its  cathe- 
dral, and  the  tin  roofs  and  spires  of  its  numerous  churches 
and  ecclesiastical  buildings,  glittered  like  a  fairy  city  at  tho 
base  of  its  own  mountain,  while  at  every  point  in  the  nearer 
prospect  on  which  the  eye  happened  to  rest  might  be  caught 
the  shimmer  of  a  tin-covered  sjnre,  and  underneath  and  around 
it  a  village,  seemingly  no  larger  than  a  wasp's  nest  or  an  ant- 
hill.    It  seemed  from  that  height,  looking  over  a  country 
rather  bare  of  trees,  that  here  was  the  abode  of  a  civilization 
as  ancient  as  that  of  China,  and  that  the  population  in  those 
countless  hamlets,  bourgs,  and  villages,  too  numerous  to  sub- 


342 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


Jr- 


Hist  only  by  agriculture,  must  have  long  ago  had  rccourao  to 
trade  and  manufactures  to  provide  themselves  with  the  meann 
of  subsistence.  But  the  standard  of  living  is  not  every  where 
so  high  as  in  our  bread,  beef,  and  beer  consuming  England. 
The  French  Canadian  can  live  happily  on  a  diet  upon  which 
an  Englishman  would  either  starve  or  become  a  Red  Repub- 
lican. But  if  the  Englishman  can  conquer  the  world  upon 
his  high  diet,  he  does  not  always  conquer  that  which  is  still 
better — as  all  philosophers  inform  us — a  contented  mind. 

Reflections  connected  with  man  or  his  works  were,  how- 
ever, not  those  which  were  predominant  in  my  mind  after  the 
first  impression  of  the  scene  had  worn  away.  As  I  stood  on 
the  mountain  top,  looking  up  and  down  the  course  of  the  St. 
Lawrence,  I  could  not  refrain  from  carrying  my  imagination 
back  to  the  day  when  the  peak  of  Bel  CEi\  was  a  small  island 
in  the  middle  of  as  large  a  lake  as  Ontario,  and  when  that 
great  system  of  inland  seas,  commencing  at  Superio(r,  and 
ending  with  Ontario  at  the  Thousand  Isles,  extended  to  Que- 
bec ;  when  the  FtJls  of  Niagara  did  not  exist,  and  when  the 
level  of  Lake  Erie  was  the  level  of  the  waters  all  the  way  to 
the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence. 

It  is  scarcely  possible  to  look  down  from  Bel  CEil  upon  the 
immense  flat  alluvial  basin  from  \vhich  it  rises  in  solitary 
grandeur  without  coming  to  the  conclusion  that,  at  an  early 
period  in  the  history  of  our  planet,  the  Laurentian  range  on 
the  one  side,  and  the  hills  of  Lake  Champlain  and  Vermont 
on  the  other,  were  the  landward  barriers  of  a  lake  nearly  300 
miles  in  length  and  seventy  or  eighty  in  breadth,  and  of  which 
the  shores  all  round  were  on  the  level  of  Goat  Island  at  the 
Falls  of  Niagara. 

After  descending  from  the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  winding 
our  way  back  through  the  pine  woods  to  the  lake,  at  the 
shores  of  which  we  had  left  our  car,  we  found  Jean  Baptiste 
keeping  watch  and  ward  over  our  provisions.  We  selected  a 
sheltered  spot  for  our  picnic  on  the  bank  of  the  little  stream 
that  carries  the  overflow  to  the  valley,  and  here  having  spread 
our  cloth  and  unpacked  our  hamper,  we  commenced  opera- 
tions.   A  few  stragglers  gathered  about  us  to  learn  what  we 


TO  THE  TOP  OP  BEL  <BIL 


843 


Ld  rccourtMi  to 
rith  the  means 
»t  every  where 
ning  England, 
ct  upon  which 

a  Red  Repub- 
lie  world  upon 
t  which  is  still 
snted  mind, 
rks  were,  how- 
'  mind  after  the 
As  I  stood  on 
ourse  of  the  St. 
my  imagination 
ts  a  small  island 

and  when  that 
t  Superioir,  and 
xtended  to  Que- 
it,  and  when  the 
rs  all  the  way  to 

;el  CEil  upon  the 
rises  in  solitary 
Ithat,  at  an  early 
[rentian  range  on 
lin  and  Vermont 
lake  nerrly  300 
Ith,  and  of  which 
loat  Island  at  the 

[liU,  and  winding 

the  lake,  at  the 

id  Jean  Baptiste 

We  selected  a 

the  little  stream 

ftre  having  spread 

lommenced  opera- 

Ito  learn  what  we 


were  going  to  do ;  but  when  they  saw  tlie  solemnity  and  im- 
portance of  the  business  that  was  to  occupy  us,  they  polltuly 
withdrew,  and  Jean  liaptiste  along  with  them.     Not  ho  the 
two  dogs  which  had  followed  us  from  St.  Ililairo.      They 
knew  by  a  sense  keener  than  that  of  sight  that  there  were 
fowls  and  beef  in  the  hami)cr,  and  were  contented  to  take 
their  chance  of  the  bones  if  nothing  better  ottered.     Neither 
of  these  animals  understood  a  word  of  English,  but  their  com- 
prehension of  French  wa.s  perfect.    The  one  of  them  was  tol- 
erably well  fed,  and  manifested  his  contempt  of  bread  and 
biscuit  by  a  perfect  immobility  of  every  part  of  his  body,  his 
tail  excepted,  which  wagged,  "  Non^je  vous  remerciej'*  quite  as 
intelligibly  as  a  tongue  could  have  spoken  it.    The  other  dog 
had  not  only  no  contempt  for  bread,  but  an  insatiable  love  of 
it.     To  him  bread  or  bare  bone  was  alike  acceptable.     lie 
was  as  lean  as  if  he  bad  tasted  nothing  for  a  month,  and  his 
behavior  during  our  repast,  contrasted  with  that  of  his  com- 
panion, afforded  us  an  amount  of  amusement  greater  than  any 
farce  upon  the  stage  could  have  given  us.     To  throw  a  piece 
of  bread  into  the  stream,  and  to  see  the  lean  dog  leap  after  it 
and  chase  it  down  the  current,  while  the  fat  dog  looked  on 
with  philosophic  contempt ;  to  throw  him  the  skeleton  of  a 
fowl,  and  see  him  gulp  bone  after  bone  with  one  sharp  and 
decisive  crunch,  as  if  it  had  been  firm  flesh ;  and  to  give  him 
a  piece  more  than  usually  large,  and  watch  him  jump  with  it 
over  the  stream,  and  retire  into  a  corner  under  a  tree,  about 
twenty  yards  off,  to  devour  it  in  the  seclusion  of  private  life, 
were  but  a  few  of  the  varieties  of  recreation  which  the  good 
dog  afforded  us,  his  companion  all  the  while  looking  at  him 
with  lazy  but  undisguised  contempt.     But  the  crowning  ab- 
surdity, at  which  we  laughed  till  the  tears  actually  trickled 
down  our  cheeks,  was  when,  in  despair  of  satisfying  the  crav- 
ings of  the  animal  by  any  thing  smaller  than  a  half  quartern 
loaf,  we  solemnly  presented  him  with  that  article  uncut.    He 
eyed  it  for  a  moment  wistfully,  and  then  suddenly  turning 
round  with  a  low  howl  of  sorrow,  mingled  with  indignation, 
that  he  should  be  so  insulted,  leaped  over  the  stream,  and 
took  his  station  within  sight,  but  far  off,  where  he  barked  and 


I 


844 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


howled  as  if  his  heart  were  broken.  We  whistled  to  lijm  and 
called  to  him  in  vain.  Ilin  pride  was  hurt,  lie  wits  not  to 
bo  soothed  or  conciliated.  At  last  wc  threw  him  halt'  the  leg 
of  a  fowl  as  a  iwace-offcring.  He  accepted  it,  and  came  back 
to  us  gayly,  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  'Jlinxj  or  four  smnll 
slices  of  bread  were  next  given  to  him  and  taken,  when,  as  an 
experiment  upon  his  canine  nature,  wc  for  the  second  time 
presented  him  with  a  whole  loaf  The  result  was  the  same 
as  before.  lie  was  oftendcd  at  the  idea  that  wo  should  con- 
sider him  so  gluttonous  as  to  accept  it,  and  bounded  off  with 
a  reproachful  moan  to  his  former  place  of  penitence  and  se- 
clusion, where  ho  howled  dolefully,  and  refused  to  bo  com- 
forted even  by  the  wing  of  a  chicken. 

Jean  IJaptiste  shook  his  head.  "  You  have  given  that  dog 
food  enough  in  one  day  to  last  a  man  for  a  week ;"  and  as 
he  himself  up  to  this  time  had  had  no  share  in  the  repast,  his 
criticism  was  doubtless  intended  as  a  reminder.  Whether  or 
not,  it  was  so  received.  Jean  Baptiste  had  his  full  share  of 
the  solid  contents  of  our  hamper,  and  half  a  bottle  of  Cham- 
pagne to  boot — a  liquor  which  he  declared  he  had  never  tasted 
uefore.  When  told  that  it  came  from  France,  he  held  up  his 
withered  hands  and  exclaimed, 

"Le  cher  pays  !  queje  nc  veirai  Jamais  /"  He  begged  to  be 
allowed  to  keep  the  empty  bottles  as  souvenirs  of  our  excur- 
sion, and  especially  the  bottle  that  had  come  from  France. 
"That,"  said  he,  "  shall  have  the  place  of  honor  on  my  man- 
tel-shelf, la  bas  a  St.  Hilaire." 

And  so  we  returned  as  we  came,  the  two  dogs  following  us 
to  the  village,  and  the  lean  one  looking  as  lean  as  ever,  frisk- 
ing sometimes  before  and  sometimes  behind,  the  happiest  dog 
that  day  in  all  Christendom. 


Tll£  ST,  LAWRENCE. 


846 


CHATTER  XXXIX. 


THE  ST.  LAWKENCE. 


Forsaking  the  Grand  Trunk  Railway  for  the  beautiful 
pccnery  of  the  St.  Ijawrencc — most  magniticcnt  of  all  the  riv- 
ers of  North  America — and  Iiaviiig  engaged  our  state-rooms 
on  board  the  steamer  Napoleon,  we — that  in,  myself  and  Mr. 
Young — left  that  city  for  Quebec  on  a  lovely  afternoon  in 
early  May.  In  compliment  to  the  French  Canadians,  whoso 
sympathies  with  France  are  not  yet  utterly  extinct,  one  of  tho 
two  principal  vessels  on  this  line  lias  been  nam  .d  the  Napo- 
leon, after  the  Emperor  of  the  French.  Tho  other,  in  compli- 
ment to  their  liege  lady  and  mistress — under  whose  mild  and 
beneficent  sway  thej  enjoy  an  infinitely  greater  amount  of 
freedom  than  could  ever  have  fallen  to  their  lot  under  tho 
domination  of  their  mother  country,  which,  continually  chang- 
ing its  form  of  government  from  a  limited  monarchy  to  a  lim- 
ited republicanism,  and  finally  to  an  unlimited  despotism,  has 
always  escaped  what  it  most  desired,  a  rational  and  well-de- 
fined liberty — has  been  named  the  Vtctoi'ia.  The  Napoleon,  on 
which  we  steamed,  was  an  admirable  boat ;  and  there  being 
neither  snags  nor  sawyers  in  the  St.  Lawrence,  nor  a  reckless 
captain,  and  a  still  more  reckless  negro  crew  to  work  her,  wo 
had  no  such  fears  for  our  safety  as  those  who  travel  on  the 
Mississippi,  the  Alabama,  or  the  Ohio  must  always  entertain, 
more  or  less.  From  six  o'clock,  when  we  embarked,  until 
midnight,  when  we  turned  into  our  berths,  the  time  passed 
both  pleasantly  and  profitably,  for  my  companion  knew  all  the 
intricacies,  all  the  history,  and  all  the  beauty  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence, and  had  done  more  by  his  single  energy  to  improve  its 
navigation,  deepen  its  shallows,  and  make  it  the  first  commer- 
cial river  of  the  continent,  than  any  other  man  in  America. 
As  we  left  Montreal,  the  tin-covered  domes,  steeples,  and  roofs 

P2 


I 


itt-- 


846 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMEUICA. 


of  itfl  cathcdmis,  churrliM,  conventu,  and  monn^tericft  gleamed 
briglitly  in  the  rays  of  tlio  Hcttiiig  f*nn  ;  «u»l  when  ovenin;;  fell, 
im  if  by  one  utroko,  upon  the  lamlMcapo,  without  the  intorven- 
tion  of  that  lingering  twilight  to  which  Knglishuien  arc  ac- 
customed at  home,  tho  whole  firmament  was  »uddenly  imuli- 
ntcd  by  tho  coruscations  of  tho  Aurora  IJorealis.  It  was  so 
vivid  in  its  brightness,  and  so  rapidly  changeful  in  its  hues — 
from  green  to  red,  amber  and  purple,  and  back  again  through 
tho  whole  gamut  of  color,  that  tho  scenery  of  tho  river  was 
for  a  while  eclipsed  by  tho  grander  scenery  of  tho  skies.  By 
that  glorious  light  our  voyago  down  the  St.  Lawrence  became 
a  kind  of  triumphal  procession,  in  which  tho  heavens  as  well 
as  the  earth  and  tho  waters  seemed  to  bear  their  part. 

Tho  Canadians  on  board  paid  no  particular  attention  to  tho 
magnificence  of  tho  spectacle,  which  was  doubtless  too  famil- 
iar to  their  eyes  to  excite  tho  wonder  and  delight  which  H 
created  in  mine,  that  had  never,  in  the  more  watery  clime  of 
England,  beheld  such  splendor.  It  seemed  as  if  the  banners 
of  eternity  were  waved  in  the  clear  blue  firmament  by  angelic 
hands,  and  as  if  aerial  hosts  of  serapiiim  and  cherubim  were 
doing  battle  in  some  great  undefinable  cause  of  liberty  and 
right ;  or  perhaps — for  imagination  was  unusually  vagrant  at 
the  time,  and  roamed  whither  it  pleased — these  electric  ebul- 
litions were  but  the  tentaculae  of  the  great  Earth-Monster 
floating  in  the  Ocean  of  Space,  as  the  medusae  float  in  tho 
clear  waters  of  the  Western  seas.  Nay,  might  they  not  be 
the  respirations  of  that  sublime  Mother  and  Bona  Dea,  upon 
whose  epidermis  man  is  but  an  insect,  and  his  proudest  works 
but  the  scraping  and  piling  up  of  the  exudations  of  her  cuti- 
cle? 

But  after  a  time — for  admiration,  however  great,  requires 
novelty  to  feed  upon — the  sublime  spectacle  did  not  take  such 
entire  possession  of  the  mind  as  to  shnt  out  altogether  that  of 
the  majestic  river  on  whose  bosom  we  floated,  nor  cause  us 
to  forget  that  its  never-changing  current,  rolling  rapidly  to  the 
sea,  was  the  drainage  of  the  larger  portion  of  a  continent. 
The  river,  which  is  from  a  mile  and  a  half  to  two  miles  wide, 
is  studded  with  many  islands,  some  of  them  lai^e  and  fertile. 


;:;' 


THE  HT.  LAWREN'CE. 


847 


At  every  three  Icnpies  on  eilluT  shore,  in  n  prominent  posi- 
tion, tu  l>c  eiiflily  seen  of  all  who  \mnA  np  or  down  the  river, 
is  built  a  churcli  of  the  well-known  Htylc  of  arrhiteoturo  ho 
familiar  to  oil  who  have  ever  tmveled  in  France,  the  only  dif- 
ference beinj;  the  invariable  tin  Hpiro  or  <lome,  which  gives 
Huch  i)cculiar  picturesciuencsF  to  the  ecclesi:L>«tical  buildinpi  of 
Canada.  These  churches  indicate  the  relijrious  zeal  and  piety 
of  the  l^^rcnch  Konian  Catliolic  colonists  of  early  times,  who 
made  the  most  ample  provision  for  the  rc.ligion  of  the  people 
when  they  lirst  took  |K)ssession  of  the  country.  They  called 
it  New  France,  itnd  endowed  the  Church  with  broad  lands 
and  ample  revenues,  upon  the  model  and  exan\plc  of  old 
France,  ere  the  plowshare  of  the  Hevolntion  passed  over  the 
land,  half  buiying  the  Cluu-ch  and  wholly  buiying  the  aris- 
tocracy. The  farms  of  the  habitant  and  their  neat  white 
houses,  are  thickly  strewn  on  botli  banks  i  the  river ;  and 
the  lights  from  the  windows,  shining  in  tie  darkness  as  we 
journeyed  rapidly  along,  conveyed  t'l  idea  that  we  ore  pass- 
ing through  a  densely-peopled  and  iiig  dy  prosperous  country 
— an  idea  far  different  from  that  which  takes  possession  of  the 
traveler  on  the  Mississippi,  who  by  niglit  or  by  day  sees  more 
frequent  signs  of  the  rude,  untrodden  wilderness  and  the  dis- 
mal swamp,  than  of  the  abodes  of  free  men  and  the  haunts  of 
an  active  commerce. 

As  regards  the  St.  Lawrence  itself,  familiarity  with  it  breeds 
no  contempt.  On  the  contrary,  the  more  it  is  known  the 
more  it  is  admired.  Without  exaggeration,  it  may  be  called 
the  chief  and  prince  of  nil  the  rivers  of  the  world.  If  it  be 
presumed  that  its  real  KOi-vces  are  to  be  sought  in  the  multi- 
tudinous and  often  nameless  streams  that  rise  in  the  wilder- 
nesses of  the  Far  West,  and  that  have  poured  the  rainfall  and 
the  thaws  of  thousands  of  years  into  the  three  great  hollows 
which  form  the  Lakes  of  Superior,  Michigan,  and  Huron,  we 
shall  find  the  true  commencement  of  the  St.  Lawrence  at  the 
place  where  the  combined  waters  of  ther-e  inland  seas  force 
their  passage  to  the  lower  levels  of  Eastern  Canada  on  their 
way  to  the  ocean.  This  is  at  Sarnia,  in  Canada  West,  at  the 
southern  extremity  of  Lake  Huron.    The  stream  at  this  point 


*.*:>  I 


348 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


"■  I- 


if 


t: 


is  called  the  St.  Clair  River.    After  running  a  course  of  about 
forty  miles  under  tliLs  name,  it  discharges  itself  into  the  small 
Lake  of  St.  Clair ;  whence,  again  seeking  an  outlet,  it  takes 
the  alias  of  the  Detroit  Kivcr.    Bunning  for  about  twenty-five 
miles  farther,  it  fills  up  another  great  hollow  in  the  earth,  and 
forms  a  fourth  inland  sea,  called  Lake  Erie,  18  fathoms  deep 
and  5C4  feet  above  the  level  of  the  ocean.    At  the  eastern  ex- 
tremity of  this  lake,  the  overflow,  hastening  ever  onward  to 
the  Atlantic,  finds  a  channel  which  is  called  the  Niagara^ 
The  stream,  flowing  swiftly  but  equably  for  fifteeen  m'UgB, 
froths  up  suddenly  into  the  rapids  as  it  approaches  the  cele- 
brated falls,  and  thence  dashes  itself  in  foam  and  spray*tnto 
the  noblest  cataract  in  the  world.     After  its  precipitodt  de- 
scent of  160  feet,  it  rushes  for  three  miles  so  furiously  that  it     | 
one  part  of  the  narrow  channel,  a  little  below  the  Suspension      \a 
Bridge,  the  middle  of  the  stream  is  ten  feet  higher  than  its 
two  sides — a  veritable  mountain  of  waters.     Growing  cal^ 
as  it  runs,  and  as  the  channel  widens,  it  discharges  itself 
a  fifth  great  hollow,  which  it  fills,  and  thus  forms  Lake  Onta»> 
rio.    It  is  only  at  its  outlet  from  this  magnificent  sheet  of  Wa- 
ter, which  is  100  fathoms  deep  and  235  feet  above  the  levelof 
the  sea,  that  it  receives  at  the  "  Thousand  Isles"  the  namei'  of 
the  St.  I^awrence,  by  which  it  is  known  in  all  its  future  course 
of  750  miles. 

Including  the  chain  of  lakes  by  which  it  is  fed,  the  course 
of  the  St.  Lawrence  is  upward  of  2500  miles.  Its  chief  afflu- 
ents, besides  the  myriad  streams  that  originally  formed  the 
gigantic  bulk  of  Lake  Superior,  are  the  Genesee,  which  falls 
into  Lake  Ontario ;  the  Ottowa,  which  mingles  with  it  to  the 
southwest  of  Montreal ;  and  the  Saguenay,  a  deep,  dark  river, 
with  high,  precipitous  banks,  which  unites  with  it  below  Que- 
bec. The  lakes,  the  rapids,  the  falls,  and  the  islands  of  the 
St.  Lawrence  add  to  the  multifariousness  of  its  attractions,  and 
render  it  immeasurably  superior  to  the  Mississippi,  the  Missouri, 
or  any  other  river  of  North  America  for  grandeur  and  beauty. 
Indeed,  there  is  no  aspect  under  which  a  river  may  be  regarded 
in  which  the  St.  Lawrence  is  not  pre-eminent.  But,  like  every 
thing  else  in  the  world,  it  has  its  impei'fections.     In  the  first 


urse  of  about 
nto  the  small 
jtlet,  it  takes 
it  twenty-five 
the  earth,  and 
fathoms  deep 
le  eastern  ex- 
er  onward  to 
the  Niagara!, 
iftecen  miles, 
ches  the  celo-     I 
,nd  spray*tnto 
trecipitortl  de- 
viously thall^     I 
he  Suspensiol^ 
igher  than  its  ^ 
rowing  ca^^r     ^ 
rges  itself^m^ 
QS  Lake  Ontu*/^  ' 
it  sheet  of^-     # 
ve  the  level&f 
3"  the  name*  of 
3  future  course 


'% 


j% 


1.  '■* 


4  A. 


fed,  the  course 
Its  chief  afflu- 
illy  formed  the 
ee,  which  falls 
I  with  it  to  the 
jep,  dark  river, 
I  it  below  Que- 
!  islands  of  the 
ittractions,  and 
)i,  the  Missouri, 
iur  and  beauty, 
nay  be  regarded 
But,  like  every 
8.     In  the  first 


M,iM 


THE   ST.  LAWRENCE. 


351 


place,  it  is  liable  to  be  closed  for  half  the  year  by  the  ice.  A 
disadvantage  such  as  this,  man's  energy  and  skill  are,  unfor- 
tunately, not  able  to  remedy.  Its  remediable  defects  commence 
at  the  extremity  of  Lake  Erie,  where  it  overflows  into  Lako 
Ontario,  to  the  lower  level  of  its  future  course.  The  Fall-'  of 
Niagara,  which  render  it  so  lx:autiful  in  the  eyes  of  the  lover 
of  Nature,  give  it  no  charm  in  tliosc  of  the  merchant,  ^'  ho  seeks 
his  way  to  a  profitable  trade  in  agricultural  produ<  A'ith  the 
great  com.  and  wheat  growing  states  of  ilie  American  Union 
that  border  upon  the  great  lakes  of  the  West.  IJut  this  com- 
mercial defect  has  been  partially  remedied.  The  Welland  Ca- 
nal, twenty-eight  miles  in  length,  has  been  constructed,  and 
through  its  narrow  channel  a  corn-laden  vessel  from  Chicago 
has  already  made  the  whole  voyage  from  that  city  to  our  En- 
glish Liverpool  without  transhipment  of  cargo.  For  vessels 
of  400  tons  the  Falls  of  Niagara  are  virtually  non-existent. 
The  question  remains,  and  will  speedily  have  to  be  decided, 
whether  they  can  not  be  rendered  non-existent,  commercially, 
for  vessels  of  1000  tons  burden  and  upward.  The  solution  of 
this  question  is  the  deepening  and  widening  of  the  Welland 
Canal — a  costly  work,  no  doubt,  but  one  which  must  be  ac- 
complished if  Canada  is  to  derive  all  her  riglitful  advantages 
from  her  admirable  geographical  position,  or  to  hold  up  her 
head  on  an  equality  with  the  United  States.  The  cost  will 
be  large,  but  will  be  met  either  by  private  enterprise  or  gov- 
ernment encouragement,  unless  the  whole  trade  of  this  vast 
region,  seeking  its  market  in  Europe,  is  to  be  ^>ormitted  to 
pass  over  the  Erie  Canal  and  through  the  United  St;  tos,  in- 
stead of  through  Canada  and  the  St.  Lawrence,  itj  natural 
outlets. 

The  next  obstruction  to  the  navigation  occurs  at  Dicken- 
son's Landing,  120  miles  beyond  Kingston  and  the  Thousand 
Isles,  at  the  first  rapids.  The  beauty  and  grandeur  of  these 
and  the  w^hole  series  of  rapids  between  the  Thousand  Isles 
and  Montreal  will  be  more  particularly  described  hereafter. 
At  this  place  the  rapids  run  for  nearly  twelve  miles,  and  the 
difficulties  they  place  in  the  way  of  the  up-stream  navigation 
have  been  surmounted  by  a  canal  from  Dickenson's  Landing 


-     I 


852 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


to  Cornwall,  at  the  licml  of  an  outspreading  of  the  river  called 
Lake  St.  Francis.  The  next  interruption  occurs  at  the  rap- 
id:* Ixjtween  Lake  St.  Francis  and  Lake  St.  Louis,  to  surmount 
wlijoh  the  Beauhamois  Canal  has  been  constructed.  From 
this  point  to  the  third  and  last  series  of  rapids  at  Lachine, 
within  nine  miles  of  Montreal,  no  difficulty  occurs.  The 
Lachine  Canal  admits  vessels  of  a  burden  much  greater  than 
the  SVelland  Canal  can  accommodate.  The  remain  in '^  ob- 
slvuctj  m  to  the  navigation  arises  from  a  totally  ditferent 
cajse,  the  shallowness  of  the  river,  where  it  widens  out  to  the 
Lake  St.  Peter.  This  lake,  which  in  one  place  is  nearly  fifteen 
miles  broad,  acted,  until  the  works  for  its  improvement  were 
undertaken,  as  an  effectual  bar  to  the  direct  ocean  commerce 
of  Montreal,  except  by  transhipment.  In  the  year  1843  the 
Canadian  government  commenced  the  construction  of  a  ship 
canal  through  the  centre  of  the  shallows.  The  work  was 
continued  until  1847,  when  it  was  temporarily  abandoned.  \  In 
1850  the  Harbor  Commissioners  of  Montreal,  impressed  with 
the  importance  of  the  work,  applied  to  the  Government  for 
authority  to  complete  it.  The  power  was  granted,  and  the 
necessary  legislative  provision  made  for  the  cost  and  main- 
tenance of  the  improvements.  In  five  years  the  channel 
throughout  the  whole  length  of  the  lake  was  deepened  five 
feet;  and  in  the  summer  of  1857  a  depth  of  seven  feet  greater 
than  the  original  bed  of  the  lake  had  been  attained.  "  The 
magnitude  of  the  work,"  says  the  Hon.  John  Young,  on  behalf 
of  the  Montreal  Harbor  Commissioners,  "  will  be  seen  when 
it  is  considered  that  the  deepening  extends  over  a  distance  of 
eighty  miles;  that  dredging  has  actually  been  done  over 
twenty-four  miles,  the  width  of  the  channel  dredged  being  no- 
where less  than  300  feet;  and  that  about  4,250,000  cubic 
yards  of  excavation  have  been  removed  from  the  bed  of  the 
lake  and  river,  and  carried  off  and  dropped  at  distances  aver- 
aging more  than  a  mile."  The  object  of  all  these  works  is  to 
afford  free  egress  from  and  ingress  to  the  St.  Lawrence  and 
Lake  Ontario,  and  the  great  lakes  of  the  West,  to  vessels  dn;  .v- 
ing  twenty  feet  of  water — a  work  which,  when  accomplished, 
will  not  only  divert  from  New  York  a  vast  amount  of  trade 


THE  ST.  LAWRENCE. 


858 


that  now  finds  its  way  thither,  but  whicli  will  largely  aid  in 
developing  the  resources  of  Iowa,  Wisconsin,  Minnesota,  Mich- 
igan, Canada  West,  and  the  yet  almost  desert  and  untrodden 
regions  of  the  Kcd  River  and  the  Saskatchewan. 

But  how  to  avoid  or  overcome  the  impediments  to  trade 
and  navigation  caused  by  the  climate,  and  the  imprisonment 
of  the  great  current  of  the  river  under  the  ice  of  an  almost 
Siberian  winter t  That  difficulty  is  not  to  be  entirely  con- 
quered. There  is  no  remedy  that  man  can  apply.  Hut  the 
difficulty  does  not  affect  the  St.  Lawrence  alone,  for  it  extends 
even  to  the  Hudson  Kiver  and  to  Lake  Champlain,  which  arc 
nearly,  if  not  entirely,  valueless  to  commerce  during  the  greater 
part  of  the  winter  and  early  spring. 

But  even  here  the  same  far-sighted  wisdom  which  luis  been 
the  cause  of  such  improvements  in  the  St.  Lawrence  —  im- 
provements advocated  and  carried  on  amid  every  kind  of  dis- 
couragement and  difficulty — has  seen  the  opportunity  of  aid- 
ing in  the  development  of  the  country.  The  Hudson  and 
Lake  Champlain  are  less  affected  by  the  frosts  than  the  St. 
Lawrence.  From  Caughnawaga,  nine  miles  west  of  Montreal, 
and  nearly  opposite  to  Lachine,  to  the  northern  extremity  of 
Lake  Champlain,  is  a  distance  of  no  more  than  twenty  miles. 
A  corn-laden  vessel  from  the  rich  lands  around  Lake  Superior, 
if  prevented  by  the  severity  of  the  weather  from  i)roceeding 
beyond  Montreal,  might  have  the  chances  to  a  later  period  of 
the  year  of  sailing  down  Lake  Champlain,  and  thence  to  the 
Hudson  and  to  the  ocean,  provided  there  was  a  ship  canal 
from  Caughnawaga  to  Rouse's  Point,  llie  Slate  of  New 
York — wise  enough  to  see  not  only  the  importance  of  con- 
necting the  Hudson  with  Lake  Erie  by  means  of  the  Erie  Ca- 
nal, bat  with  Lake  Champlain — constructed  a  canal  some 
years  ago,  effecting  the  junction  at  the  southern  end  of  tho 
lake.  This  cr^nal  is  sixty-five  miles  in  length,  but  only  admits 
vessels  of  eighty  tons.  Hut  the  link  between  Caughnawaga 
and  the  northern  extremity  of  the  lake,  in  British  territory, 
would  more  effectually  unite  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  conse- 
quently Lake  Ontario,  with  the  Hudson.  This  project  has 
been  put  prominently  forward  by  Mr.  Young,  and,  there  being 


854 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


mi 


1)^  in^neerijig  impedimentii,  the  only  real  objection  raised 
against  it  is  the  expense.  But  this  objection  will  disappear ; 
and  it  is  all  the  more  important  that  it  should,  not  only  for 
the  sake  of  the  trade  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  but  for  that  of  all 
Canada,  deprived  by  geographicnl  <;ijH',u:n8tanccs  of  the  Erie 
Can.\i,  and,  by  the  easy,  goodnalured  i;rnor&;vee  of  the  late 
Lord  Ashburton,  of  the  harhor*i  ir;  the  territt  ry  of  Maine, 
whicli,  by  every  consider:ation  (>rgeogr.*phy  tradr,  politics,  and 
natural  riglit,  ':ught  to  Icwo  bciongeu  to  it. 

Hov'/  necessnPt  it  is  fc  v  Cana(  'a  and  the  friends  of  Canada 
to  Ptir  in  all  matters  relating  to  the  improvemei\t  of  the  St. 
Lawrence  and  to  the  harbor  of  Montreal  rr.ay  ►  j  understood 
by  the  inst\'uctionf?  to  .L\lcir.-irs.  Childe,  MViVlpine,  and  Kirk- 
wood,  the  civil  engineers  rppointed  b;  Ihe  Harbor  Commis- 
sioners of  ^Montreal  to  examine  j.iid  report  on  the  subject; 
^' Alth*>ugh  the  magnificent  canals  on  the  St.  Lawrence  are  in 
pcrfcjct  order,  and  have  been  in  operation  since  1849,  wit^h  a 
system  of  railways  also  in  operation  for  two  years,  running 
from  Quebec,  and  connecting  with  all  points  south  and  west, 
yet,  up  to  the  close  of  1850.  the  St.  Lawrence  route  had  only 
succeeded  in  attracting  fifteeix  per  cent,  of  the  Western  Cana- 
dian and  Western  United  States'  trade,  eighty-five  per  cent, 
of  that  trade  passing  through  the  Erie  Canal  and  over  the 
railways  of  the  State  of  New  York." 

All  these  matters,  and  many  others,  I  studied  that  night 
upon  the  St.  Lawrence.  At  seven  in  the  morning,  with  a 
clear,  bright  sky  above  us,  we  arrived  within  sight  of  Cape 
Diamond  and  the  imposing  fortifications  of  Quebec.  By  half 
past  seven  we  had  passed  Wolfe's  Landing  and  the  Heights 
of  Abraham,  where  the  battle  was  fought  that  decided  the 
fortunes  of  America,  and  at  eight  were  s^ifeiy  landed  in  the 
quaintest  and  most  remarkable  city  of  the  New  World. 


QU£B£0. 


855 


CHAI»TER  XL. 

QUEBEC. 

May,  1868. 
•  To  Quebec  belongs  the  distinction  of  being  the  most  an- 
tique, the  most  quaint,  the  most  picturesque,  and  in  many  re- 
spects, both  historical  and  strategical,  the  most  important  city 
on  the  North  American  continent ;  and,  before  attempting  ci- 
ther to  describe  it  or  to  record  the  reflections  excited  by  its 
singular  history,  a  few  words  on  the  very  doubtful  point  of 
the  origin  of  its  name  may  neither  be  uninteresting  nor  inap- 
propriate. The  names  both  of  Canada  and  of  Quebec  have 
long  puzzled  etymologists,  and,  rampant,  fiery,  and  ungovern- 
able as  may  be  the  etymological  hobby — a  very  Pegasus  career- 
ing through  all  the  sciences,  and  through  all  knowledge,  sacred 
and  profane,  ancient  and  modern — it  can  not  be  denied  that 
inquiries  into  the  derivations  of  words  and  names  of  places, 
if  fairly  conducted,  may  conduce  to  instruction,  and  throw  new 
light  upon  old  subjects,  both  in  the  highways  and  by-ways  of 
history  and  literature. 

The  name  of  Canada  is  supposed  by  one  class  of  etymolo- 
gists to  have  been  derived  from  the  Spaniards,  and  by  a  sec- 
ond from  the  native  Indians.  Father  Hennepin,  a  Jesuit 
writer,  states  that  the  Spaniards  first  discovered  Canada — a 
very  doubtful  point,  however — and  that,  finding  nothing  on 
the  coasts  that  came  up  to  their  expectations  or  excited  their 
cupidity,  they  called  it  the  "  Capo  di  Nada,"  or  "  Cape  Noth- 
ing," whence,  by  abbreviation,  Canada.  Charlevoix,  a  later 
French  writer,  repeats  the  story,  and  adds  that  the  natives  of 
Gaspe,  on  the  St.  Lawrence,  were  in  the  habit  of  repeating,  to 
the  French  navigators  of  the  days  of  Jacques  Cartier,  the  real 
discoverer  of  the  St.  Lawrence  and  of  Canada,  two  words  which 
they  had  picked  up  from  the  Spanish  adventurers  of  an  earlier 
date,  "  Aca  nada,"  or  "  Nothing  here  ;"  and  that  the  French 


'I^X 


856 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


& 


mistook  their  expression,  and  imagined  that  the  name  of  tlic 
country  was  Acanada,  or  Canwhi.  The  French  have  laid  no 
claim  to  the  word,  though  it  may  1x3  mentioned  as  singular 
that  in  the  Walloon  country  of  IJelgium,  and  in  the  neighbor- 
ing French  territory,  where  the  stime  dialect  is  8[>oken,  a  po- 
tato is  called  a  Canada.  But  the  Indian  derivation  seems  tlie 
most  j)robable.  Both  on  the  Canadian  and  the  New  York 
side  of  the  St.  Lawrence  occur  Indian  names  of  places  of  which 
tlio  word  Caugh  is  the  leading  syllable.  Thus,  opposite  La- 
chine  is  Caugh-na-waga,  or  the  Village  of  the  Kapids,  Caugh- 
iia-daigha,  or  Cunaiidaigua,  in  the  county  of  Genesee,  in  the 
State  of  New  York ;  and  Onon-daugha,  or  Onondaga,  in  the 
game  state.  Caugh-na-daugh,  pronounced  by  the  Iroquois 
Indians  Cah-na-dah,  signifies  a  village  of  huts,  or  a  town; 
and  the  word  seems  to  have  been  adopted  by  the  French  in 
the  time  of  Jacques  Cartier.  Wherever  they  found  an  Indian 
village  in  their  intercourse  with  the  natives  from  Gaspe  to 
Sault  St.  Louis,  they  asked  its  name,  and  were  invariably  an- 
swered Caugh-na-daugh,  and  thence  believed  that  the  word 
was  the  name  of  the  whole  country. 

Whether  this  be  or  be  not  the  true  solution,  is  now  difficult, 
and  perhaps  impossible  to  decide ;  but  it  seems  fortunate  that 
so  large  and  fine  a  country  has  a  good  and  sounding  name  of 
its  own,  wbencesoever  it  may  have  been  derived.  In  this  re- 
spect, as  well  as  in  some  others,  Canada  has  an  advantage  over 
the  "United  States  of  America" — a  phrase  which  designates, 
but  does  not  name,  the  country  And  equally  difficult  is  it 
to  know  whence  came  the  name  of  Quebec.  The  Iroquois 
Indians  called  the  place  Staugh-Daugh-Cona,  or  Stadacona; 
and  the  Huron"=',  a  small  remnant  of  whom  still  lingers  in  the 
neighborhood,  called  it  Tia-ton-tarili,  or  the  "  place  of  the 
narrows."  Champlain,  who  has  given  his  own  name  to  the 
large  and  beautiful  lake  that  lies  between  the  St.  Lawrence 
and  the  Hudson,  says  that  the  word  Quebec  is  of  Indian  or 
Algonquin  origin,  and  signifies  a  "  strait."  Charlevoix,  who 
wrote  nearly  a  century  after  Champlain,  repeats  the  state- 
ment ;  but  the  Indians  themselves  deny  that  there  is  any  such 
word  in  their  language  or  dialects,  and  universally  agree  that 


QUEBEC. 


357 


it  i»  of  French  origin.  La  l*olhorip,  who  wrote  on  the  dis- 
coveries of  Jacques  Carticr,  relatcrt  thi«t  the  Norninn  cmw  of 
tliat  tli!<tingui."*hed  navigator,  on  catching  the  tii*j*t  g^ml|)^^3  of 
the  inipohing  promontory  of  CajK;  Diamond,  on  which  tho 
citadel  of  (.Quebec  now  stands,  cxcUiimcd  "  Quel  bee  T — what 
a  beak  !  or  promontory — and  hence  the  name.  IJut,  ahliuugh 
this  derivation  secma  improbable,  if  not  absurd,  it  leads  in- 
([uiry  toward  Normandy,  and  to  tho  early  settlers  in  New 
PVance,  as  Canada  was  then  called,  as  to  the  true  source  of 
the  word.  As  there  is  a  town  called  Caudebcc  on  the  Scino 
— as  there  is  the  Abbey  of  Bcc-IIallouin,  in  Normandy — may 
there  not  have  been  some  hamlet,  bourg,  fief,  or  castle  named 
Quebec,  of  which  the  name  was  transfcn-ed  to  the  New  World 
by  some  immigrant  Norman  adventurer  and  native  of  tho 
place  ?  This  supposition  was  at  one  time  greatly  strengthen- 
ed by  the  discovery  of  a  mutilated  seal  of  the  famous  William 
de  la  Pole,  Earl  of  Suffolk,  in  the  reign  of  Henry  V.  of  En- 
gland. This  seal,  engraved  in  Edmonstone's  ^feraldry,  bears  in 
the  legend  the  distinct  syllables  "  Quebec"  and  "  Suffolchia; ;" 
and,  as  the  greater  portion  of  the  legend  is  broken  off,  the  gap 
was  thus  conjecturally  supplied  :  SiGiLLfiM  Willielmi  de  la 

TOLE,  COMITIS    SUFFOLCni^,  DOJI'NUS   DE   IIaMBURY,  ET   DF 

Quebec.  "  This,"  says  the  writer  iii  Hawkins's  excellent 
"Picture  of  Quebec,"  published  in  that  city  in  1834,  "proveii 
beyond  doubt  that  Quebec  was  a  town,  castle,  barony,  or  do- 
main, which  the  powerful  Earl  of  Suffolk  either  held  in  his 
own  right,  or  us  governor  for  the  king  in  Normandy,  or  some 
other  of  the  English  possessions  in  France."  But,  though 
there  was  no  doubt  in  the  mind  of  the  local  historian,  there 
would,  perhaps,  have  been  a  very  considerable  doubt  had  he 
consulted  "  Dugdale's  Baronage"  for  tho.  titles  of  William  do 
la  Pole.  In  vol.  ii.,  page  186,  of  the  folio  edition  of  1675-6, 
occurs  the  following  passage :  "  In  4  Henry  V.  this  William 
was  retained  by  indentures  to  serve  the  king  in  his  wars  of 
France  with  thirty  men-at-arms,  whereof  himself  to  be  one, 
five  knights,  twenty-four  esquires,  and  ninety  archers.  *  *  * 
In  remuneration  of  which  and  other  services,  he  then  obtained 
a  grant  to  himself  and  the  heirs  male  of  his  body  of  the  Cas- 


'♦i  • 


K:..,y 


858 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


M 


T, 


tics  of  Hambor  and  Brkqukdrc,  with  their  appurtenances,  as 
also  of  all  the  fecH  and  inheritances  which  Sir  Fulko  l*agnell, 
Knight,  possessed  within  the  duchy  of  Normandy,  being  then 
of  the  yearly  value  of  three  thousand  and  five  hundred  scutes." 

Thus  it  appears  that  William  do  la  Polo  was  Lord  of  Ure- 
ffuebec  and  not  of  Quebec,  and  tiiis  explanation  suggests  that 
on  the  mutilated  seal  the  first  syllable  (Bre)  may  have  been 
broken  off.  Brequebec,  or,  as  it  is  now  called,  Bricquebcc,  is 
a  village  eight  miles  from  Valognes,  in  Normandy,  between 
Cherbourg  and  St.  Malo,  and  possesses  the  ruins  of  an  ancient 
castle,  with  a  loiV  donjon  keep  eighty  feet  high.  It  was 
taken  from  the  fumlly  of  Paynell,  Paganel,  or  Paisnel,  after 
the  battle  of  Agincourt,  and  bestowed  by  Henry  V.  on  the 
Earl  of  Suffolk,  as  stated  in  Dugdale.  So  the  etymology 
founded  upon  the  authority  of  the  imperfect  seal  must  fall  to 
ground;  and  we  must  either  look  for  some  other  French 
town,  castle,  or  bourg  named  Quebec  without  the  "  Bre'*  or 
the  "Brie,"  or  discover  a  more  probable  derivation. 

It  appears  that  an  early  French  writer,  Le  P6re  du  Creux, 
writes  the  word  in  Latin,  Kebeccum;  and  that,  in  Major 
Wally's  "  Journal  of  the  Expedition  against  Canada  under 
Sir  William  Phipps  in  1690,"  the  place  is  called  Cabeck.  Is 
not  the  last-mentioned  the  real  clew,  after  all,  to  tht  difficulty ; 
The  western  extremity  of  the  long  promontory  of  which  the 
citadel  of  Quebec  forms  the  eastern  termination  is  called  Ca- 
rouge,  an  abbreviation  of  Cap  Rouge ;  and  may  not  Cabeck 
be  in  the  same  manner  derived  from  Cap  Bee?  The  name, 
said  to  have  been  given  to  it  by  the  sailors  of  Jacques  Cartier, 
was  Bee,  or  promontory,  whence  the  transitions  to  Cape  Beck, 
Cap  Bee,  Cabeck,  Kebbeck,  and  Quebeck,  are  so  simpk  as  to 
require  even  les?  than  the  usual  amount  of  etymological 
stretching  to  make  them  fit.  But  if  the  name  of  the  cape 
have  been  given  to  the  city,  as  seems  most  probable,  the  cape 
itself  has  lost  its  original  designation,  and  is  now  called  Cape 
Diamond.  h 

I  had  not  been  many  hours  in  Quebec  before  I  stood  at  the 
wall  of  the  citadel,  overlooking  the  river  from  a  dizzy  height 
of  three  hundred  feet — the  standard  of  Great  Britain  floating 


QUEBEC. 


859 


over  my  hrvl,  tho  rcd-coatod  soUlu»r«  of  my  native  Inntl  pricing 
their  rouii  iind  HuggcHtinp,  by  their  ftrms,  their  dn-!*  ,  their 
accoutreinciitH,  their  whole  look  and  bcarinjr,  the  dear  old 
country  from  which  I  wan  .separated  by  »o  many  thousand 
iiiiioM  of  ocean,  and  on  the  soil  of  who^o  noblest  colony  I 
Htoo<l. 

And  the  panorama,  strctchinj?  on  every  side,  had  all  tho 
elements  of  grandeur  and  loveliness  to  impress  itself  vividly 
upon  tho  memory  and  the  ima<j;ination.     Tho  wintry  snows, 
though  it  was  in  the  second  week  of  May,  had  not  entirely 
disappeared  from  tho  landscape,  but  glittered  in  the  distance 
in  patches  like  the  white  tents  of  some  innncnso  army ;  or 
lingered,  in  still  larger  wreaths,  on  the  high  banks  of  tho  op- 
posite side  of  tho  St.  I^wrcnce,  though  on  tho  Quebec  side, 
having  a  southward  aspect,  they  had  long  since  disap'^oared. 
Tho  sky  was  beautifully  ch^ar,  and  distant  objects  seemed 
closer  to  the  eye  than  in  the  mellower  and  hazier  atmosphere 
of  home.     At  tho  feet  of  tho  spectator,  one  hundrtHl  yards  in 
perpendicular  descent,  and  closely  huddled  against  tho  rock, 
lay  the  old  city — picturesque,  narrow,  and  crooked — a  trans- 
atlantic Edinburgh — with  its  castlc-crowncd  height  and  bris- 
tling citadel ;   but  possessing  an  advantage  over  Edinburgh 
in  the  broad  and  majestic  river  at  the  base  of  the  precipice. 
To  the  west  were  the  Heights  of  Abraham,  and  the  path  up 
the  rocks  to  the  Plains,  famous  in  history  as  the  battle-field 
where  Wolfe,  the  young  and  immortal  general  of  thirty-two, 
gained  Canada  for  Great  Britain  and  wrested  from  the  French 
their  American  empire.     Opposite  were  the  Heights  of  Pointe 
Levi  and  the  town  of  New  Liverpool.     Away  to  the  east  was 
the  beautiful  island  of  Orleans,  where  Jacques  Cartier  landed 
on  his  second  voyage,  and  called  it  the  island  of  Bacchus  for 
its  beauty  and  fertility,  and  the  number  of  wild  grapes  he 
found  growing  there ;  an  island  thirty  miles  long,  dividing 
the  broad  St.  Lawrence  into  two  currents  ;  while  the  river  it- 
self, blue  and  beautiful,  and  studded  with  vessels  of  all  sizes, 
wound  its  majestic  way  to  the  ocean.     The  white  sails  of  tho 
ships  and  l)oat8  gleamed  in  tho  sunshine,  and  gave  both  beauty 
and  animation  to  the  scene ;  while,  close  to  the  edges  of  the 


i 


800 


LIFE  AND  UHERTY  IN  AMEniCA. 


Htrcnm,  tho  "booms,"  in  which  the  "lumber"  or  timl)cr, which 
fonijM  HO  iarj^o  a  pDition  of  the  w<  il'i  ol  C'aiuuhi,  wuh  iiu'hi.Hvtl 
prcviouH  to  its  hhiitmciit  for  Kurui)c  and  thu  IJnitoU  StatcK, 
HU^'gcMted  the  itlca  that  CiuclHic  wuh  not  nit-nly  a  war  liliwlil 
and  fortrer^M,  but  thu  important  ccntru  of  a  lucrative  and  in- 
creaMing  conuncrce. 

Even  had  tho  HiM)t  been  unassociatcd  with  tlio  liistoric  and 
heroic  incidents  that  have  made  it  one  of  the  moHt  n)emorahlu 
on  the  surface  of  the  globe,  it  wouhl  be  dillicult  for  any  cuhi- 
vated  ntind  to  refuse  the  homage  of  admiration  to  its  natural 
ndvantagen,  and  its  romantic  loveliness.  "Within  the  citadel 
is  a  monument  erected  to  tiic  memory  of  Wolfe  and  Montcalm 
— a  small  obelisk,  bearing  the  names  of  tho  mighty  dead  : 
Wolfe  on  one  side  of  the  tetragon,  Montcalm  on  the  other ;  and 
recalling  by  tlkcir  juxtaposition  in  death  and  in  history,  as  well 
as  on  tho  monument,  the  lines  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  on  two  very 
different  heroes :  \ 

*'  Tho  solemn  ocho  seems  to  cry, 
Hero  let  tlieir  discord  with  them  die  ; 
But,  search  the  land  of  living  men, 
Where  wilt  thou  find  their  like  again  ?" 

And  if  their  rivalry,  just  one  hundred  years  ago,  had  taken 
another  turn,  what  would  have  happened?  If  Montcalm  had 
vanquished  Wolfe,  or  Wolfe  had  failed  to  scale  the  Heights  of 
Abraham,  and  drag  up  his  one  gun  to  tho  Plains,  what — if  wo 
are  justified  at  all  in  entering  into  such  inquiries — would  have 
been  the  condition  of  North  America  at  the  present  time  ? 
Nay,  what  would  have  been  the  condition  of  our  ancient  Eu- 
rope? Wolfe's  victory,  and  the  fast  following  conquest  of 
Canada  were,  there  can  not  be  a  doubt,  among  the  most  pow- 
erful of  the  reasons  which  induced  the  French  monarchy  to 
lend  its  aid  to  the  revolted  subjects  of  the  British  colonies  in 
America,  and  which  brought  to  George  Washington  the  chiv- 
alrous aid  of  Lafayette,  and  procured  for  tho  United  States 
that  independence  of  England  which  under  other  circumstances 
they  might  not  perhaps  have  enjoyed  to  this  day.  And  that 
noble  struggle,  in  which  Lafayette  and  his  Frenchmen  played 
so  distinguished  a  part,  had  its  infiuenco  in  Europe,  and 


grKiiKC. 


801 


inl>cr,  wli'ioh 

litwl  Stilton, 
,  war  til;nk'l 
Uivc  uiid  in- 
historic  fttnl 
U  incmorublu 
for  liny  eulti- 
to  its  niiturul 
n  the  citudt'l 
ind  Monteuhn 
mighty  dead: 
l»e  other ;  atul 
istory,  as  well 
tt  on  two  very 


r 


wrotight  fo  powerfully  upon  tlu'  mlndw  of  the  Froncli  i>oopl#»  ax 
not  only  to  pri'di.-|M»f<(»  thcin  lor  the  cvi'nts  of  ITHD,  hut  U  >  r- 
a.-'iHTuto  and  ini|M'l  thcni.  Anu'rican  lihorty  wa^  tho  nioftivr 
»»f  the  French  Kcvolution.  It  was  the  example  of  Washinj;- 
lon  and  Franklin  that  helped  to  raisu  up  the  early  zealots  of 
1781)  to  attempt  in  the  Old  Worhl  what  was  ho  splendidly  ac- 
complished in  the  New.  If  JNIontcalni  had  l>o<'n  the  eoncpieror 
instead  of  Wolfe,  and  if  Canada  had  remained  French,  Ixtnis 
XVI.  nii<^ht  not  have  lost  his  head  on  the  scaffold  ;  no  Kol)Cs- 
pierre  and  Danton  might  have  proved  themselves  the  fanatics 
of  liberty ;  no  Napoleon  Honaparto  mijj;ht  have  arisen  lik(^  a 
fiory  meteor  to  illumine  and  allright  the  worhl ;  and  the  nn;j:hty 
republic  of  the  United  States  mi;;ht  have  l)een  what  Cana<la 
now  is — u  free  and  a  prosperous  colony  of  the  Ihitish  crown. 
It  is  diiricult  in  such  u  spot  as  CJuebcc — the  military  key  to 
North  America,  and  where  the  frreat  event  associated  forever 
with  the  name  of  Wolfo  was  decided — to  avoid  indidging  more 
or  less  in  reflections  of  this  kind.  Such  trains  of  thought  are 
the  homage  demanded  by  the  gmitis  loci,  and  he  who  does  not 
pay  it  may  be  as  wise  as  an  owl,  and  possibly  as  insensible, 

Quebec  has  greatly  outgrown  its  original  limits;  and  the 
large  suburb  of  St.  John's,  stretching  far  beyond  the  fortifica- 
tions of  the  citadel  toward  the  Plains  of  Abraham,  contains  a 
population  which  considerably  exceeds  that  of  the  city  proper. 
The  whole  population  is  estimated  at  about  40,000.  The  as- 
pect of  the  old  town  is  essentially  French,  while  the  suburb 
partakes  more  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  character,  but  not  so  much 
so  as  to  destroy  the  predominant  French  element.  The  mon- 
asteries, convents,  churches,  and  cathedrals  vindicate  by  their 
architecture  the  country  of  their  founders,  and  are  the  main 
ornaments  of  Quebec.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said  that,  without 
exception,  the  ugliest  building  in  the  city — the  wharves  on  the 
river  side  excepted — is  the  English  Episcopal  Church,  or  per- 
haps it  should  be  called  Cathedral,  as  it  boasts  an  English 
liishop.  The  Roman  Catholic  churches  have  more  pretensions 
to  architectural  beauty,  and  the  tin  roofs  of  the  numerous 
i'pires  and  cupolas,  glittering  in  the  clear  sunlight  of  the  clime 
like  burnished  silver,  add  greatly  to  the  picturesque  beauty  of 

Q 


362 


LIFE  AND  LIBEUTY  IN   AMEUICA. 


w 


the  town,  and  aid  in  impressing  it  upon  the  memory  of  the 
traveler. 

From  the  rising  ground  of  ISIount  Pleasant,  forming  the 
eastern  ledge  of  the  Tlains  or  Heights  of  Abraham — whore  I 
was  lodged  in  the  hospitable  abode  of  one  of  the  principal  mer- 
chants— the  view  over  the  valley  of  the  Charles  River  to  the 
long,  straggling  village  of  Beauport  was  suggestive,  like  that 
of  the  panorama  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  of  a  densely-peopled  and 
highly  cultivated  country.  The  whole  land  seemed  to  swarm 
with  life,  and  to  be  cut  up  into  little  farms — each  farm-house 
in  the  centre  of  its  own  square,  like  a  pawn  upon  a  cliess- 
board.  The  French  Canadians,  like  the  French  at  home,  have 
divided  and  subdivided  the  land  ad  ivjinitum,  until  they  have 
well-nigh  exhau;,ted  the  fertility  of  the  soil.  Instead  of  spread- 
ing out  into  the  wilderness  as  population  increased,  they  have 
preferred  to  remain  upon  the  narrow  strips  on  the  banks  of 
the  river  where  ti.  Ir  forefathers  first  effected  a  settlement, 
while  for  miles  beyond  them  lies  the  virgin  forest,  ready  for 
the  axe  and  the  plow,  and  capable  of  maintaining  a  numerous 
population  both  of  agriculturists  and  traders.  But  Jean  Bap- 
tiste,  as  the  habitant  is  called,  is  a  quiet,  good  soul,  strongly 
attached  to  his  paternal  four  acres,  or  one  acre,  as  the  case 
may  be,  and  has  not  the  restless  spirit  of  enterprise  within  him 
that  carries  the  Yankee  or  the  Englishman  into  the  busy  world 
to  carve  himself  a  fortune.  He  loves  to  linger  around  the 
church,  and  would  rather  live  upon  a  small  pittance  within  its 
shadow  than  quintuple  his  income,  or  rise  to  wealth  in  a  new 
and  ruder  district.  In  the  still  busy  and  fertile  valley  of  the 
Richelieu,  on  the  opposite  shore  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  already 
described,  the  same  feeling  and  practice  prevail,  and  the  same 
results  have  ensued.  The  land  is  so  subdivided  and  exhausted 
that  a  district  which  once  annually  exported  large  quantities 
of  wheat  now  scarcely  grows  enough  for  the  consumption  of  its 
own  inhabitants.  This  defect  in  the  character  of  the  people 
appears  to  be  ineradicable,  and  threatens  to  produce  in  Can- 
ada a  state  of  things,  though  with  a  difference,  such  as  tliiit 
which  existed  in  Ireland  prior  to  the  famine  and  plagtie  of 
1847-8-9,  and'^which  made  the  government  of  Ireland  the 


QUEBEC. 


8(33 


mory  of  the 

forminj:;  the 
im — where  1 
irincipal  nier- 
llivcr  to  ilic 
ivc,  like  that 
y-pcoplcd  and 
ncd  to  swarm 
ch  farm-house 
upon  a  chcss- 
at  home,  have 
intil  they  have 
tead  of  spreud- 
ised,  they  have 
1  the  banks  of 
1  a  settlement, 
orest,  ready  for 
ing  a  numerous 
But  Jean  Bap- 
i  soul,  strongly 
crc,  as  the  case 
3rise  within  him 
)  the  busy  world 
jger  around  the 
ttance  within  its 
wealth  in  a  new 
tile  valley  of  the 
iwrence,  already 
lil,  and  the  same 
jd  and  exhausted 
large  quantities 
onsumptionofits 
tcr  of  the  people 
produce  in  Can- 
ice,  such  as  tliiit 
le  and  plague  of 
It  of  Ireland  the 


greatest  difficulty  with  which  the  crown  of  England  ever  had 
to  contend.  Tlic  New  World,  with  its  boundless  agricultural 
resources,  would  socm,  at  the  first  glance,  to  Iw  too  large  for 
pauperism  •  but  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  past  history  and 
present  condition  of  the  French  colonists  of  Lower  or  Etistcrn 
Canada  justify  the  fear  that  this  plague  of  Europe  may  be  in- 
troduced into  America,  and  that,  as  was  the  case  in  Ireland, 
the  social  disease  may  be  aggravated  by  ipiestions  of  race  and 
religion.  Yet  when  the  evil  attains  its  climax  there  will 
doubtless  be  a  remedy ;  and  the  habitans,  pushed  into  the  wil- 
derness by  a  necessity  from  which  there  will  be  no  means  of 
escape,  will  not  have  so  far  to  travel  in  search  of  new  fields 
and  fresh  pastures  as  their  fellow-sufferers  of  the  Green  Isle. 
If  those  who  see  or  suggest  the  possibility  of  such^  growth  of 
circumstances  be  not  open  to  the  accusation  of  looking  some- 
what too  far  into  the  uncertain  future,  should  not  those  who 
have  it  in  their  power  to  direct  public  opinion  in  Canada,  and 
especially  among  the  descendants  of  the  early  Erench,  warn 
the  people  while  it  is  yet  time  ?  A  rich  Church  and  a  poor, 
contented,  and  simple-minded  people  form  one  sort  of  Arcadia, 
but  it  is  not  the  Arcadia  of  Englishmen,  or  of  any  branch  of 
ihe  Anglo-Saxon  family ;  neither  is  it  c-n  Arcadia  for  the  per- 
petuation of  which  they  arc  likely  to  contribute  any  portion 
of  their  own  hard-won  earnings. 

Every  visitor  to  Quebec,  unless  his  heart  be  utterly  ossified 
by  the  pursuits  of  trade  and  deadened  to  all  sentiment,  pays  a 
visit  to  the  Plains  of  Abraham,  to  the  spot  where  Wolfe  fell, 
marked  by  an  obelisk,  and  to  the  steep  path  up  the  cliff  from 
the  shore,  at  the  place  now  called  Wolfe's  Cove.  The  drive 
over  the  Plains  to  Cap  Rouge  would  well  repay  the  visitor  by 
the  beauty  of  the  scenery,  even  were  there  no  such  history  at- 
tached to  the  ground  as  to  hallow  it  by  the  reminiscences  of 
patriotic  heroism  and  glorious  death.  The  road  runs  parallel 
with  the  St.  Lawrence  from  cape  to  cape,  and  the  river  bank 
is  studded  with  the  villas  of  the  merchants  of  Quebec,  each 
with  its  surrounding  groves  and  gardens.  The  cultivated  and 
inclosed  ground  has  gradually  occupied  the  battle-field  and  its 
approaches,  so  that  it  is  now  diflicult  to  trace  the  actual  *cenc 


t 


864 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


of  the  conflict;  but  in  the  very  heart  of  the  battle,  on  tlie  spot 
where  Wolfe  fell  mortally  wounded,  a  stone  was  erected  in 
1834 — seventy-five  years  after  the  event — bearing  the  follow- 
ing BJmplc  and  eloquent  inscription  : 


r^j 


'i 


K« 


-ifei^af 


Ih 


HERE     DIED 
WOLFE, 

VICTORIOUS. 

Better  in  1834  than  never ;  but  it  was  not  creditable  to  tljc 
British  government  that  three  quarters  ot  a  century  should 
have  been  suffered  to  elapse  ere  this  tribute  was  paid  to  the 
gallant  soldier  and  man  of  genius,  who  won  for  Britain  so 
splendid  a  ^ize  as  Canada,  and  sealed  the  purchase  with  his 
blood.  In  the  history  of  this  great  struggle  it  should  always 
be  remembered,  to  the  enhancement — if  that  be  possible— of 
the  pure  fame  of  Wolfe,  that  he  and  his  army  of  Britons 
scorned  to  accept  the  murderous  aid  of  the  Indian  tomahawk, 
and  that,  as  far  as  Great  Britain  was  concerned,  it  was  a  ftiir 
fight  with  fair  weapons.  When  Montcalm  was  told  that 
Wolfe  had  landed  above  the  town,  and  made  good  his  footing 
on  the  Plains,  he  refused  to  give  credence  to  a  fact  so  unex- 
pected and  alarming.  "  It  must  only  be  Wolfe  and  a  small 
party,"  he  said,  "  come  to  burn  a  few  houses,  look  about  him, 
and  return."  When  no  longer  able  to  doubt  that  Wolfe, 
with  a  goodly  force  of  British  troops,  and  the  Grenadiers 
burning  to  wipe  oflf  the  stigma  of  a  previous  repulse  at  Mont- 
morenci,  were  in  actual  military  possession  of  the  Plains  and 
of  the  approaches  to  Quebec,  "  Then,"  said  he,  "  they  have 
got  to  the  weak  side  of  this  miserable  garrison  ;  therefore  we 
must  endeavor  to  crush  them  by  our  numbers,  and  scalp  them 
all  by  twelve  o'clock."  Montcalm,  though  he  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  employ  the  Indians  and  their  scalping-knives,  was  per- 
haps allowed  no  discretion  in  the  matter  by  V^s  superiors  at 
home,  and  was  not  otherwise  an  ungenerous  foe.  He,  too, 
lost  his  life  in  the  struggle ;  and,  ere  dying,  paid  the  British 
forces  and  Wolfe — who  expired  several  hours  before  liim — 
this  magnanimous  compliment :  "  h  nee  it  was  my  misfortune 


QUEBEC. 


865 


on  the  J»pot 
i  erected  in 
:  the  follow- 


litable  to  the 
intury  should 
LS  paid  to  the 
ibr  Britain  so 
•base  with  his 
should  always 
3  possible — of 
[ny  of  Britons 
lan  tomahawk, 
d,  it  was  a  fair 
was  told  that 
ood  his  footing 
I  fact  so  unex- 
fe  and  a  small 
ook  about  him, 
bt  that  Wolfe, 
the  Grenadiers 
spulse  at  Mont- 
thc  Plains  and 
te,  "  they  have 
;  therefore  we 
ind  SCALP  them 
|e  did  not  hc^i- 
:nivcs,  was  per- 
Qis  superiors  at 
foe.     He,  too, 
^laid  the  British 
■s  before  him— 
my  misfortune 


to  be  dij*comfitcd  «n«l  mortally  wounded,  it  in  a  cont^olation  l«> 
inc  to  be  vanquished  by  so  brave  and  generous  an  enemy.  If 
I  could  survive  ibis  wound,  I  would  engage  to  beat  three 
times  the  number  of  such  forces  as  I  commanded  this  morn- 
ing with  one  third  the  number  of  British  troops." 

It  is  difficult  to  decide  which  of  these  two  great  soldiers  is 
most  beloved  by  the  existing  generation  of  Lower  Canadians. 
There  is  sympathy  for  the  fate,  and  glory  for  the  name  of 
both.  It  is  no  longer  bad  taste  for  an  Anglo-Saxon  to  praise 
Wolfe  in  the  presence  of  a  French  "Canadian,  or  for  a  French 
Canadian  to  f^.ory  before  a  British  settler  in  the  deeds  and 
character  of  Montcalm.  Time  has  effaced  all  jealousies,  and 
to  the  victor  and  the  vanquished  are  alike  accorded  the  tribute 
of  history  and  the  love  and  respect  of  posterity. 

Quebec  possesses  the  beautiful  lublic  cemetery  of  Mount 
Ilermon,  two  miles  from  the  city,  on  the  road  to  Cap  Rouge. 
From  every  point  of  the  grounds  is  to  be  obtained  a  fine  view 
of  the  St.  Lawrence,  rolling  far  beneath  the  feet  of  the  spec- 
tator the  abundant  current  of  its  waters.     Seen  from  that 
height,  it  seems  to  repose  as  calmly  as  the  bosom  of  a  mount- 
ain lake,  and  gives  no  evidence  of  ihe  strength  and  majesty 
with  which  it  sweeps  to  the  Atlantic.    The  grounds  of  Mount 
Hermon  are  very  tastefully  laid  out  and  planted ;  and,  while 
sufficiently  near  to  the  citv  for  convenience,  are  too  distant  to 
justify  the  fear  that  any  pc  oible  increase  of  Quebec  will  ever 
render  the  cemetery  intramural.     Here,  at  the  extremity  of  a 
leafy  avenue,  lies,  under  a  handsome  monument,  erected  by  the 
liberality  of  his  sympathizing  countrymen,  the  body  ol*  John  Wil- 
son, the  once-celebrated  Scottish  vocalist,  who  died  of  Asiatic 
cholera  in  Quebec  in  1849.  But  the  solitudes  of  Mount  Ilermon 
possess  a  more  melancholy  and  a  more  interesting  grave  than 
this.     In  one  long  trench,  two  deep,  one  above  the  other, 
buried  with  their  clothes  on,  as  they  died,  lie  no  less  than  two 
hundred  and  sixty-two  pei'sons  of  all  ages.     Here  are  grand- 
fathers and  grandmothers,  sons  and  daughters,  husbands  and 
wives,  brothers  and  sisters,  and  little  children,  who  all  perish- 
ed in  the  burning  of  the  steam-ship  Montreal,  bound  from  Glas- 
gow to  Montreal,  in  June,  1857.    The  sad  calamity  excited  a 


3G6 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMEniCA. 


■'■p-.im 


% 


I 


piihii'iil  ^ciiKitiuu  Ihruu^liout  Cauudii,  iw  well  an  iu  Scotlaml, 
from  which  nearly  all  the  emigrants  came.  They  were  all  of 
the  best  class  of  farmers  and  mechanics,  mostly  strong  young 
men,  with  their  wives  and  families,  who  had  saved  a  little 
capital  by  prudence  and  thrift  in  the  Old  Country,  and  came 
hither  in  all  the  pride  of  health  and  strength,  and  in  the  flush 
of  hope  and  enterprise,  to  try  their  fortune  on  a  new  soil. 
They  had  passed  in  safety  through  all  the  perils  of  the  Atlan- 
tic, and  for  upward  of  six  hundred  miles  through  thcGulf  and 
River  of  St.  Lawrence,  with  the  land  of  their  adoption  within 
an  arrow's  flight  on  either  side  of  their  ship.  As  the  noble 
vessel  passed  Quebec  on  her  way  to  Montreal,  the  people  on 
the  wharves  and  on  the  fortifications  turned  out  to  look  at 
her ;  and  one  who  had  been  a  sailor,  and  had  a  keen  eye  for 
all  the  appurtenances  of  a  slnp,  remarked  to  a  comrade,  "  That 
vessel  is  on  fire!"  And  so  it  proved.  She  had  not  stoamcd 
two  miles  past  Wolfe's  Cove  when  the  flames  burst  out ;  and 
the  captain,  as  the  only  chance  of  safety,  drove  her  on  shore 
on  a  narrow  ledge  of  rock  between  "Wolfe's  Cove  and  Cap 
Rouge.  Unfortunately,  there  were  ten  feet  of  water  on  the 
landward  side  of  the  ledge,  and  the  distracted  people,  listening 
to  no  counsel,  in  their  terror  to  escape  from  the  dread  enemy, 
Fire,  leaped  by  scores  and  hundreds  into  the  water,  knowing 
nothing  of  its  depth,  and  hoping  to  be  able  to  wade  ashore. 
Out  of  upward  of  four  hundred  souls,  only  about  eighty  were 
rescued  ;  the  remainder,  including  many  hapless  mothers  and 
their  little  children,  and  many  beautiful  young  girls,  were 
drowned  within  sight — and,  had  they  remained  quiet  and  self- 
collected  for  a  few  moments  longer,  within  reach — of  deliver- 
ance. And  here  they  lie  in  one  long  grave,  their  very  names 
unknown,  save,  perhaps,  to  their  sorrowing  relatives  in  "^001- 
land ;  and,  in  some  instances,  where  whole  families  pcrir?hcd 
together,  unknown  to  living  man.  Few  of  the  survivors  of 
the  calamity  remained  in  Canada.  There  seemed  to  their 
minds  to  be  a  curse  upon  the  country,  and  thry  returned  to  the 
old  land  iu  despair.  The  loss  to  Canada  was  great.  They 
were  the  very  class  of  emigrants  the  most  needed  and  the  most 
useful;  and  their  combined  capital,  and  the  use  they  could 


QUEBEC. 


3G7 


have  inadc  of  it  within  tour  or  five  years*,  rcprcwnted  at  lcn.Ht 
half  a  million  of  pounds  sterling.  Tlio  Canadians  came  for- 
ward on  the  occasion  with  a  generosity  that  did  them  honor. 
The  Scotch  particularly  distinguished  themselves  !>y  the  liber- 
ality of  their  subscriptions  for  the  relief  of  the  survivors. 
Quebec,  Montreal,  Toronto,  Hamilton,  and  other  cities  con- 
tributed large  sums  to  the  fund.  It  seemed  *o  me,  when 
standing  upon  the  spot,  that  few  graves  could  be  more  affect- 
ing. The  mounds  raised  over  heroes  slain  in  battle,  or  tlu? 
trenches  into  which  arc  thrust  the  victims  of  a  plague,  may  ap- 
peal strongly  to  the  sympathies  of  those  who  in  the  presence 
of  Death  remember  humbly  and  reverentially  their  own  hu- 
manity ;  but  the  grave  of  hope,  of  health,  of  strength,  of  youth, 
and  of  infancy,  all  mingled  together  by  the  accident  of  one 
moment — by  one  tick  of  the  great  pendulum  of  Fate — appeals 
still  more  potently  both  to  the  heart  and  the  imagination. 

Closely  adjoining  Mount  Hermon,  and  on  the  same  Heights 
of  Abraham,  is  Spencer  Wood,  the  summer  residence  of  the 
Governor  General  of  Canada,  through  the  pleasant  grounds 
of  which  our  party  strolled  at  will  for  upward  of  an  hour  ere 
we  proceeded  to  an  equally  pleasant  though  smaller  villa, 
where  an  English  gentleman,  retired  from  the  British  army  to 
cultivate  a  Canadian  estate,  awaited  our  coming,  and  gave  us 
a  hospitable  welcome. 

But,  though  the  Heights  of  Abraham  and  the  road  to  Cap 
Rouge  are  among  the  first  drives  or  walks  taken  by  every 
visitor  to  Quebec  who  has  time  at  his  command,  they  are  not 
the  only  excursions  that  should  be  made  by  those  who  have  an 
eye  for  the  picturesque,  and  who  desire  to  enjoy  the  beauties 
of  a  land  that  is  pre-eminently  the  land  of  torrents  and  watcr- 
ftills — a  land  that  is  even  more  musical  with  the  voice  of 
streams,  than  Scotland  or  Switzerland,  and  that  possesses, 
in  addition  to  the  world's  wonder,  the  great  Niagara,  such 
splendid  cataracts  as  those  of  Montmorenci,  Lorette,  and  the 
Chaudiere.  The  ride  to  the  Falls  of  Montmorenci,  and  that 
equally  picturesque  to  the  village  and  Falls  of  Lorette,  can 
not  be  omitted  by  any  traveler  who  dares  to  say,  on  his  re- 
turn to  Europe,  that  he  has  been  to  Quebec.    The  ride  to 


Ml 


368 


LIFE  AND   LIBERTY   IN   AMERICA. 


i|5,  i..,-. 


:J.:-   w 


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k^  ^      J^ 


Mm. 


.;>»|^- 


•■f'^  ? 


Montmorcnci,  through  th(3  long  vil..*^c  of  llcauport,  Is  only 
interesting  from  the  glimpses  wliich  it  alFords  of  Fi-cncU  Ca- 
nadian jKMisant  life.  The  fine  church,  the  mean  cottage,  and 
the  cross  by  the  wayside,  arc  all  familiar  objects  to  him  who 
has  traveled  in  Europe ;  but  IJeauport  possesses  characteristics 
of  its  own,  which  arc  due  to  the  climate  rather  than  to  the 
people.  The  village  (the  head-quarters  of  Montcalm  in  1750) 
extends  nearly  the  whole  distance  from  Quebec  to  Montmo- 
rcnci, straggling  on  both  sides  of  the  way,  each  house  present- 
ing itself  to  the  road  diagonally,  with  a  sharp  corner.  The 
front  door  is  reached  by  a  high  flight  of  steps ;  both  arrange- 
ments being  essential  to  the  comfort  of  the  people  in  the  long 
and  severe  winters  of  Canada.  The  cornerwisc  implacemcnt 
of  the  houses  allows  the  wintry  winds  to  carry  to  the  rear 
the  snow  which  might  in  othor  circumstances  be  drifted  to  the 
front ;  and  the  high  door  is  necessary  for  the  safe  egress  and 
ingress  of  the  people  to  their  homes  in  seasons  when  the  ac- 
cumulated snowfall  is  often  ten  or  tAvelve  feet  in  depth.  The 
windows  of  nearly  every  one  of  these  cottages  were  so  pro- 
fusely filled  with  flowers  as  to  challenge  a  stranger's  attention 
not  only  to  their  beauty  and  choiccncss,  but  to  the  elegant 
taste  of  the  wives  and  daughters  of  the  habitans,  of  whose  love 
of  floriculture  they  afforded  such  pleasant  proofs. 

The  Montmorenci  River  discharges  itself  into  the  St.  Law- 
rence over  a  high,  precipitous  bank  of  nearly  two  hundred 
feet — a  very  noble  cataract.  The  winter  seldom  lays  its  icy 
touch  upon  the  waters  with  such  severity  as  to  arrest  the 
current,  but  every  year  the  spray  cast  upward  by  the  toiTcnt 
is  frozen  ere  it  falls,  and  sprinkles  the  banks  and  the  ice  of 
the  lower  stream  with  showers  of  show,  which  form  a  cone  or 
hill  at  a  short  distance  from  the  fall.  In  cold  weather  this 
cone  often  rises  as  high  as  the  upner  level  of  the  rock  from 
which  the  river  leaps.  It  is  a  favorite  diversion  of  the 
citizens  of  Quebec,  when  the  winter  forbids  all  business  ..nd 
nothing  is  to  be  thought  of  unless  it  bo  pleasure,  or  the  \>i\\- 
ancing  of  the  gains  and  losses  of  the  previous  ppiing  and 
summer,  to  make  excursions  to  Montmorcnci,  and  give  the 
young  folks  or  the  ladies  a  slide  down  the  cone  in  cars  con- 


QUEBEC. 


869 


slructeJ  for  the  purpose.  At  the  time  of  my  visit,  thmi;;h 
the  fpiing  was  fur  advanced,  the  cone  still  remained  about 
forty  feet  in  height,  and  the  river,  at  the  base  of  the  fall, 
was  thickly  coated  with  ice.  From  one  point  of  the  rock, 
on  the  eastern  side  of  the  gorge,  a  fine  view  of  Quelxx^ 
glittering  at  a  distance  of  seven  miles  to  the  west,  is  to  1x5  ob- 
tained ;  while  eastward  stretches  the  island  of  Orleans,  with 
its  superabundant  wild  grapes,  its  sunny  shores,  and  its  fertile 
hills  and  valleys. 

There  is  within  the  limits  of  the  British  Isles  one  spot  from 
which  a  view  equally  grand  and  extensive  is  to  be  had,  and 
.that  is  at  the  very  summit  of  Strone  Point,  in  the  Frith  of 
Clyde ;  a  place  seldom  visited,  but  which  may  Ix;  recommend- 
ed to  all  pedestrians  and  lovers  of  the  grand  and  romantic  in 
scenery  who  find  themselves  on  a  summer  day  at  Greenock, 
Kilmun,  Dunoon,  or  any  other  of  the  Iwautiful  watering-places 
foF  which  the  Clyde  is  celebrated,  and  who  may  wish  to  sec  at 
small  effort,  and  without  the  necessity  of  crossing  the  Atlantic, 
a  resemblance  to  the  most  romantic  scenery  of  Canada. 

The  Tails  of  Lorette  are  not  so  picturesque  as  those  of 
Montraorenci,  but  are  well  worthy  of  a  visit,  not  only  for  their 
own  beauty,  but  for  their  close  proximity  to  the  Indian  village 
of  Lorette,  where  resides  the  last  scanty  remnant  of  the  once 
powerful  tribe  of  the  Hurons,  the  former  lords  and  possessors 
of  Canada.  Paul,  the  chief  or  king  of  the  tribe,  is  both  the 
most  exalted  and  the  most  respectable  member  of  the  tribe, 
and  carries  on  with  success,  by  means  of  the  female  members 
of  his  family,  a  trade  in  the  usual  Indian  toys  and  knick- 
knacks  which  strangers  love  to  purchase,  and  in  his  own  per- 
son cultivates  a  farm  in  a  manner  that  proves  him  to  be  a 
.skillful  and  thrifty  agriculturist.  His  aged  mother  and  her 
sister,  the  "Queen  of  the  Hurons,"  received  us  hospitably  in 
their  neatly-furnished  cottage;  and  the  latter,  eighty  years 
of  age,  v/liom  we  regaled  with  a  quart  of  Bass's  pale  ale, 
which  she  relished  exceedingly,  and  drank  oif  at  two  draughts, 
showed  us  a  silver  medal  which  she  had  received  from  Alder- 
man Garratt,  Lord-Mayor  of  London,  in  1825,  when  she  and 
her  late  husband,  the  "king,"  had  visited  London,  to  urge 

Q2 


370 


LIFE   AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


some  claim  of  terriloiiul  right  upon  the  Hritish  government. 
The  old  lady,  in  return  for  the  interest  1  had  expressed  in  her, 
and  perhaps,  also,  to  show  her  gratitude  for  the  bitter  ale, 
obligingly  told  my  fortune  by  looking  at  my  palm,  and  refused 
to  receive  ice  or  reward  for  her  pains.     What  the  fortune, 
predicted  was,  and  whether  it  has  come  true,  need  not  be  told 
farther  than  it  was  just  as  favorable  and  just  as  true  as  that 
with  which  any  Gipsy  nearer  homo  could  have  flattered  me ; 
and  any  one  more  like  a  Gipsy  tlian  the  "  Queen  of  the  IIu- 
rons"  I  never  saw.     1  could  not  help  believing,  when  I  looked 
upon  her,  and  as  I  do  when  I  recall  her  to  my  mind,  that  tJie  • 
Red  Men  of  the  New  "World  and  the  Gipsies  of  the  Old  arc 
one  people ;  tlie  same  in  their  features,  build,  and  habits ;  in 
their  restless  and  wandering  mode  of  life ;  in  their  claims  * 
the  power  of  divination ;  and  in  their  incapability  of  endurir 
continuous  hard  labor,  or  reaching  any  high  degree  of  civili- 
zation. 


CHAPTER  XLI. 


TORONTO. 


From  Montreal  to  Toronto  by  the  Grand  Trunk  Railway 
is  a  long  day'r  journey  of  333  miles.  The  line  passes  by  or 
near  the  towns  oJ  Cornwall,  Prescott,  Brookville,  Kingston, 
IBelleville,  Coburg,  Port  Hope,  Bowmanville,  Oswaka,  and 
others,  of  which  the  populations  vary  in  numbers  from  1800 
at  Port  Hope,  to  16,000  at  Kingston.  By  taking  the  rail,  the 
traveler  misses  all  the  scenery  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  the  Rapids, 
and  the  Thousand  Isles,  but  as  these  are  seen  to  greater  ad- 
vantage in  desrei'ding  the  river,  and  as  there  is  no  posgibility 
of  shooting  the  rapids  except  with  the  current,  the  rail  is  the 
most  expeditious  mode  of  traveling  from  Montreal  westward, 
and  the  steamer  by  far  the  best  and  most  agreeable  for  travel- 
ers going  east.  I  therefore  left  unvisited  until  my  return  the 
Thousand  Isles  and  the  Rapids,  and,  bidding  a  temporary  fare- 
well to  the  pleasant  city  of  Montreal,  started  for  Toronto  at 
seven  in  the  morning.     The  scenery  after  we  lost  sight  of  the 


IMP 


«h  government, 
xprcsscd  in  her, 
the  bitter  ulo, 
Im,  and  refused 
lat  the  fortune^ 
leed  not  be  told 
as  true  an  that 
'^0  flattered  me ; 
icen  of  the  IIu- 
;,  when  I  looked 
r  mind)  that  tlic  ■ 
of  the  Old  arc 
and  habits ;  in 
their  claims  t 
ility  of  endurir ' 
degree  of  civ  ill - 


Trunk  Railway 
ine  passes  by  or 
Lville,  Kingston, 
3,  Oswaka,  and 
ibers  from  1800 
dng  the  rail,  the 
ence,  the  Kapids, 
n  to  greater  ad- 
is  no  possibility 
t,  the  rail  is  the 
itreal  westward, 
jeable  for  travel- 
:il  my  return  the 
I  temporary  fare- 
i  for  Toronto  at 
lost  sight  of  the 


1^1 


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Hf. 


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%:il|i!|i!? 


!     ■  ■/ 


TOKOXTO. 


873 


tl^' 


hills  of  Montreal,  and  the  glistening  xpircrf  and  cu|M)las  of  iho 
city,  80on  ceased  to  bo  picturescjue,  and  all  the  way  to  Kings- 
ton, a  distance  of  173  miles,  was  flat  and  monotonous  in  tho 
extreme.  Our  tniin  wjw  ^.omposed  of  five  long  cars  of  a  con- 
struction precisely  similar  to  that  of  tho  comfortles.s  traveling 
kennels  used  in  the  United  States;  and  the  method  of  taking 
the  tickets,  and  of  allowing  to  tho  conductor  the  entire  control 
over  moneys  received  from  tho  passengers  who  enter  at  the 
principal  or  at  the  ifitermcditite  stations,  without  tho  prel'iii- 
uiary  purcha8(  ♦'  "kcts,  was  exactly  the  same.  Soon  Xwr 
leaving  Kings!  "oursc  for  ui)ward  of  150  niiles  si  irted 

the  shore  of  Oi  n>  >  j  lake  was  on  this  occasion  roughened 
by  a  storm,  thai  s  broad  expanse  far  more  picturesque 

than  the  flat,  unvarjinj:  panorama  on  the  landward  side ;  from 
whence,  ever  and  anon,  as  our  train  stopped,  wo  could  hear 
the  load  croaking  of  multitudes  of  frogs,  which,  from  their 
power  of  lung,  must  have  been  of  a  considerably  larger  species 
than  the  largest  bull-frogs  of  the  Old  World.  I  was  informed 
by  a  passenger  that  these  were  the  "  veritable  nightingales  of 
Canada,"  and  that  their  croak  sounded  uncommonly  like  the 
words  "  strong  rum,  strong  rum."  Our  train  reached  its  des- 
tination in  little  more  than  fourteen  hours  and  a  quarter,  ar- 
riving at  twenty  minutes  past  nine  in  the  evening,  only  five 
minutes  after  the  advertised  time.  Such  punctuality  as  this 
it  was  never  before  my  good  fortune  to  witness  on  any  rail- 
way in  America,  and  the  speed,  nearly  twenty-nine  miles  an 
hour,  including  stoppages,  was  greater  than  the  average  rate 
of  traveling  in  the  States.  Having  taken  up  my  quarters  at 
the  Rossin  House,  a  monster  hotel — the  largest  in  Canada — 
conducted  by  an  American  on  the  American  principle,  I  sal- 
lied out  in  the  morning  to  take  my  first  look  at  tho  legislative 
capital  for  the  time  being  of  the  two  Canadas. 

The  contrast  between  Toronto  and  the  cities  of  Canada  East 
was  so  marked  and  striking,  that  it  was  some  time  before  I 
could  persuade  myself  that  I  was  not  back  again  in  the  United 
States.  In  Montreal  and  Quebec,  the  solid,  substantial  aspect 
of  the  houses,  the  streets,  the  churches  and  public  buildings, 
continually  suggests  the  idea  of  Europe.     Every  thing  seems 


Vil 


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IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


33  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)872-4503 


^•^'-  '^f^ 


874 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


to  have  the  Slow  growth  of  centuries,  as  in  France,  Germany, 
and  England.  '  The  streets  seem  to  have  arranged  themselves 
to  the  wants  of  successive  generations,  and  to  have  been  made 
straight  or  crooked,  wide  or  narrow,  according  to  the  need  or 
caprice  of  the  moment,  and  not  in  pursuance  of  any  pro-de- 
vised plan.  But  Toronto,  a  thing  of  yesterday,  a  mere  mush- 
room compared  with  the  antiquity  of  Montreal  and  Quebec, 
though  rivaling  the  one,  and  exceeding  the  other  in  trade  and 
population,  is  built  upon  the  American  principle,  which  loves 
the  economy  of  straight  lines,  asserts  the  necessity  of  system, 
prefers  the  chess-board  to  the  maze,  and  the  regularity  of  art 
to  the  picturesque  irregularity  of  nature.  It  is  first  the  plan 
and  then  the  city ;  not  the  city  in  the  first  instance,  to  grow 
afterward,  or  to  cease  to  grow  as  it  pleases,  as  was  the  case 
with  all  cities  more  than  two  hundred  years  old.  X 

The  streets  are  long  and  straight.  There  is  no  more  crook- 
edness in  them  than  there  is  in  Philadelphia;  and  they  all 
run  at  right  angles  to  the  lake ;  and  one  of  them -^iSfork'^y^ 
Street — is  supposed  on  the  map  to  stretch  &way — straighter  ^ 
than  an  arrow's  flight — to  Lake  Simcoe,  nearly  forty  miles 
distant.  There  is  a  Yankee  look  about  the  whole  place  which 
it  is  impossible  to  mistake ;  a  pushing,  thriving,  business-like, 
smart  appearance  in  the  people  and  in  the  streets ;  in  the 
stores,  in  the  banks,  and  in  the  churches.  I  could  not  but 
observe,  too,  that  there  was  a  much  larger  predominance  of 
Scotch  names  over  the  doors  than  I  had  previously  seen  in 
any  other  city  of  America.  Looked  upon  from  any  part  of 
itself,  Toronto  does  not  greatly  impress  the  imagination ;  but 
seen  from  the  deck  of  one  of  the  ferry  steam-boats  that  ply  at 
regular  intervals  between  the  city  and  the  long,  low  strip  of 
a  peninsula  that,  at  a  distance  of  four  miles  from  the  shore, 
protects  the  harbor,  it  has  all  the  air  of  wealth  and  majesty 
that  belongs  to  a  great  city.  Its  numerous  church  spires  and 
public  buildings ;  its  wharves,  factories,  and  tall  chimneys, 
mark  it  for  what  it  is — a  busy,  thriving,  and  expanding  place. 
In  the  year  1793,  the  spot  on  which  it  stands  was  covered 
with  a  dense  forest,  amid  which,  close  to  the  lake,  might  bo 
seen  the  wigwams  of  the  Mississagua  Indians.    The  site  was 


TORONTO. 


875 


fixed  upon  by  Governor  Simcoe,  and  the  future  town  named 
York,  in  honor  of  the  Duke  of  York,  then  a  favorite  with  the 
British  army ;  and  the  ground  cleared  in  1794.  The  Parlia- 
ment of  Upper  Canada  met  here  in  1797.  But  the  growth 
of  the  place  was  not  rapid ;  for,  in  1821,  a  quarter  of  a  cen- 
tury after  its  foundation,  it  contained  but  250  houses  and  133G 
inhabitants.  During  the  next  nine  yex?rs  its  progress  was  more 
satisfactory ;  and  its  ambition  was  great  enough  to  draw  upon 
it  the  ill-will  of  other  struggling  places  upon  the  fake,  by 
whose  inhabitants  it  was  called  in  derision  "  Little  York," 
«  Dirty  Little  York;'  and  "  Muddy  Little  York."  But "  Lit- 
tle York*'  was  well  situated ;  its  early  inhabitants  knew  how 
to  turn  its  advantages  to  account ;  and  by  rapid  steps  it  be- 
came the  seat  of  a  large  trade  and  of  very  considerable  manu- 
factures, among  which  those  of  furniture  and  machinery  arc 
now  the  most  impor'.ant.  The  name  of  Toronto,  derived  from 
the  original  Indian  appellation  of  a  collection  of  wigwams  that 
once  stood  upon  the  same  site,  and  signifying  "  the  meeting- 
place,**  was  adopted  in  the  year  1834,  at  which  time  it  had 
become  a  flourishing  place  of  about  10,000  inhabitants.  Since 
that  period  its  progress  has  been  greater  than  that  of  any 
other  city  in  Canada.  Li  ten  years  it  nearly  doubled  its  pop- 
ulation, which  in  1844  amounted  to  18,420.  In  1851  the 
population  had  increased  to  30,755,  and  in  the  spring  of  1858 
to  upward  of  50,000.  The  number  of  houses  in  the  city  is 
7476,  of  which  3212  have  been  built  since  1850.  The  amount 
of  real  property  within  its  limits  is  assessed  at  £7,288,150, 
the  yearly  value  c  r  which  is  estimated  for  purposes  of  local 
taxation  at  £437,289.  The  value  of  personal  property  is  es- 
timated at  £1,296,616.  Independently  of  the  real  property 
in  the  hands  of  citizens,  the  corporation  of  the  city  holds  prop- 
erty in  public  buildings,  lands,  and  water-lots  estimated  at  up- 
ward of  £430,000,  and  yearly  increasing  in  value. 

Toronto  possesses  no  less  than  four  daily  newspapers,  one 
of  which,  the  Globes  circulates  every  morning  about  19,000 
copies,  and  the  editor  and  proprietor  of  which  is  a  member  of 
the  Legislature,  and  acknowledged  leader  of  the  Opposition  in 
the  Lower  House.     The  other  daily  papers,  the  Leader,  the 


133,- 


«■ 


876 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA, 


Cohnisty  and  the  Atlas j  aro  also  widely  circulated,  and  con- 
ducted with  much  ability.  The  weekly  and  semi-weekly 
papers  arc  too  numerous  to  specify,  and  betoken  by  their  suc- 
cess an  amount  of  intellectual  activity  among  the  people  that 
is  not  to  be  found  in  any  city  or  town  of  the  same  size  in  the 
Old  Country,  or,  indeed,  any  where  out  of  London.  It  also 
possesses  two  small  newspapers,  of  a  class  of  which  Punch  is 
almost  the  only  representative  in  England,  and  which  have 
never  yet  been  successfully  established  in  any  city  of  the 
United  States — the  Poker  and  the  Grumhler~-eQ.Q\i  a  Punch  in 
its  way,  without  the  illustrative  wood  engravings  which  make 
Punch  so  attractive.  The  Canadians  seem  to  have  more  of 
the  British  and  Irish  relish  for  wit  than  exists  among  the 
people  of  the  United  States,  who,  if  they  enjoy  broad  humor, 
are  for  the  most  part,  unless  they  have  traveled  in  Europe,  or 
are  litterateurs  by  profession,  quite  unable  to  appreciate  wit. 

Toronto  possesses  a  well-endowed  University,  several  col- 
leges and  public  schools,  and  may  be  said  to  have  set  an  ex- 
ample to  all  Canada  in  the  cause  of  public  educatioh.  It  also 
possesses  a  park  for  the  health  and  recreation  of  the  people, 
as  well  as  for  the  amenity  of  the  city,  objects  of  which  the  ne- 
cessity has  not,  unfortunately,  been  so  manifest  in  other  cities, 
both  in  Canada  and  the  United  States,  as  to  induce  either  the 
early  founders  r  o  existing  municipalities  of  the  most  pop- 
ulous among  th  ,  vO  look  so  far  into  the  future,  or  even  into 
the  wants  of  the  present,  as  to  purchase  land  for  purposes  so 
desirable. 

The  Legislature  was  in  full  session  on  my  arrival;,  and 
having  the  honor  of  the  acquaintance  of  one  actual  and  three 
ex-ministers,  and  of  half  a  dozen  members  of  the  Lower 
House,  I  was  speedily  made  free  of  both  chambers,  and  ad- 
mitted to  all  such  privileges  of  the  floor  as  can  be  accorded  to 
any  one  not  actually  a  member.  The  proceedings  were  al- 
most, if  not  quite,  as  devoid  of  ceremonial  and  formality  as 
the  State  Legislatures  of  the  American  Union.  Indeed,  the 
only  difference  that  I  could  discover  was  that  at  the  back  of 
the  speaker's  chair  were  the  royal  Jirms  of  Great  Britain,  and 
on  the  table  before  him,  as  in  the  House  of  Commons  at 


TORONTO. 


877 


for  purposes  so 


home,  a  large  silver-gilt  mace — "  that  baublu,"  as  Cromwell 
called  it. 

Iho  "  show-places'*  of  Toronto,  after  the  Houses  of  Tarlia- 
ment,  are  the  University,  the  normal  and  model  school,  under 
the  superintendence  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Egerton  Ryei'son,  to  whom 
education  in  Canada  owes  much  ;  and  the  furniture  manufac- 
tory of  Messrs.  Jacques  and  Hay.  All  these  establishments 
are  not  only  interesting  in  themselves,  but  suggestive  of  the 
present  Importance  and  future  progress  of  Canada.  At  the 
manufactory  of  Messrs.  Jacques  and  Hay  may  be  seen  the  pro- 
duction by  machinery  of  furniture  en  groSj  from  the  common- 
est stool,  chair,  table,  or  bedstead  required  for  the  log  hut  of 
the  humblest  settler  in  the  wilderness,  to  the  most  costly  ot- 
toman and  fauteuil  demanded  by  the  luxury  of  the  richest 
merchant.  Walnut  wood,  so  expensive  in  England,  is  in  Can- 
ada among  the  cheapest  of  the  woods  of  which  furniture  is 
made. 

Toronto  has  a  great  future  before  it.  For  the  last  ten 
years  its  progress  has  been  such  as  to  justify  the  expectation 
that  it  will  rival,  if  not  surpass  Chicago  and  Milwaukee,  still 
farther  west,  for  it  has  advantages  not  possessed  by  either  of 
these  cities,  and  which  will  indubitably  be  turned  to  proper 
account  when  Canada  shall  be  properly  known  to  the  emi- 
grants of  the  British  Isles.  At  present  the  great  tide  of  emi- 
gration sets  to  the  United  States.  Hereafter  it  is  more  than 
probable  that  Canada  will  be  the  favorite. 

In  looking  at  the  vast  capabilities  of  the  two  Canadas — in 
considering  the  climate,  so  much  more  congenial  to  the  hardy 
races  of  the  British  Isles  than  that  of  Ohio,  Indiana,  Illinois, 
and  Missouri — in  considering,  above  all  things,  the  fact  that 
the  immigrant  into  the  Canadas  enters  into  the  enjoyment  of 
a  much  greater  degree  of  political  liberty  than  is  possessed  in 
the  United  States,  and  that  he  does  not  thereby  cut  himself 
entirely  adrift  from  the  protection  and  relationship  of  the  old 
and  dear  mother  country  with  which  he  is  associated  by  so 
many  tender  ties  of  memory  and  sympathy,  one  can  not  but 
feel  surprise  that  the  Canadas  do  not  absorb  a  far  larger  pro- 
portion of  the  overflow  of  tljc  teeming  population  of  Great 
Britain  and  Ireland. 


878 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


For  one  Englishman,  Scotcliinun,  or  IriHlimun  who  Axes  hi^ 
lot  in  Canada,  ten  Englishmen,  Scotchmen,  and  Irishmen  try 
their  fortunes  in  the  United  States;  not  because  there  is 
cheaper,  better,  and  more  abundant  land  to  be  had — ^not  be- 
cause there  is  a  greater  amount  of  rational  liberty,  or  a  lighter 
amount  of  local  and  imperial  taxation,  but  apparently  from  a 
vague  fear  that  a  day  must  come  when  the  Canadians  will 
•have  to  struggle  for  their  freedom,  and  do  over  again  what 
was  done  by  the  people  of  the  United  States  in  the  days  of 
Washington.  There  seems  to  be  a  dread  that  the  battle  for 
independence  will  have  to  be  fought  against  England.  Emi- 
grants do  not  choose  to  run  the  risk  of  such  a  struggle,  and  to 
do  such  violence  to  their  feelings  as  to  take  arms  against  the 
land  of  their  love  and  of  their  childhood ;  against  the  land 
where  rest  the  bones  of  their  fathers ;  against  which  they 
have  and  can  have  no  natural  or  even  political  animosity.  If 
such  be  the  idea  or  the  instinct  of  the  mass  of  emigrants,  noth- 
ing can  be  more  erroneous,  as  far  as  we  can  judge  from  the 
present  politics,  interests,  and  feelings  of  the  Canadians ;  and 
as  far  also  as  we  can  judge  from  the  tone  and  temper,  and,  let 
us  hope,  the  increased  wisdom  of  the  British  government. 
Should  the  Canadians  ever  wish  to  be  independent,  they  have 
but  to  say  the  word,  and  the  British  people,  so  far  from  sup- 
porting the  government  in  any  attempt  to  thwart  their  wishes, 
will  say,  "  Go  !  God  bless  you !  May  you  increase  and  pros- 
per !  You  are  blood  of  our  blood,  and  bone  of  our  bone ;  and 
all  that  we  desire  of  you — as  we  should  desire  of  our  dearest 
son — is  that  you  should  flourish,  pay  your  own  way,  cease  to 
be  a  burden  or  an  expense  to  us,  and  remain  forever  our  dear- 
est friend  and  best  customer."  The  same  feeling  would  in- 
fluence the  government,  whether  it  were  Liberal  or  Conserv- 
ative. The  mistakes  of  George  III.  could  no  more  be  repeated 
in  our  day  than  the  mistakes  of  King  John  or  James  II. ;  and 
Great  Britain,  warned  by  experience,  and  having  learned  wis- 
dom in  adversity — and  having,  moreover,  a  truer  appreciation 
of  the  value  of  colonies,  and  of  the  duty  of  the  queen  bee  to  the 
swarms  that  she  sends  forth,  could  not  fall  into  the  errors  com- 
mitted in  the  by-gone  and  almost  antediluvian  times  of  Wash- 


nAMIT.TON,  LONDON,  AND  OTTAWA. 


879 


iiigtuii  and  Ld\fuyuttu.  Public  opinion  has  grown  too  Htrong 
for  tho  commission  of  such  blunders,  and  would  not  tolcroto 
their  repetition,  even  if  a  ministry  could  bo  found  in  our  day 
wrong-headed  and  foolhardy  enough  to  repeat  thorn.  And 
while  the  loyalty  of  the  Canadas  is  an  established  fact,  it  in 
equally  established  on  the  other  side  that  the  Canadas  must 
make  their  own  way  in  the  world,  fight  their  own  battle,  and 
take  their  own  choice.  Great  Britain,  like  a  fond  mother, 
will  rejoice  in  their  prosperity,  even  though  it  be  acquired  by 
their  independence. 

These  considerations,  if  properly  weighed  and  understood  in 
the  British  Isles,  will  in  due  time  cause  a  far  larger  stream  of 
emigration  to  flow  toward  those  noble  provinces,  and  to  tho 
yet  undeveloped  wildernesses  of  the  Red  River  and  the  Sas- 
katchewan, than  the  superior  attractions,  though  not  tho  su- 
perior advantages,  of  the  United  States  have  yet  permitted — 
and  farther  even  than  these  remote  regions — across  the  whole 
breadth  of  the  continent,  to  British  Columbia,  Yancouvor,  and 
the  shores  of  the  Pacific. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

HAMILTON,  LONDON,  AND   OTTAWA. 

The  flourishing  city  of  Hamilton,  in  Burlington  Bay,  may 
be  reached  from  Toronto,  by  the  Great  Western  Railway  of 
Canada,  in  an  hour  and  a  half,  and  by  a  pleasant  drive  along 
the  shores  of  Lake  Ontario.  Hamilton  contains  a  population 
of  upward  of  30,000,  and  has  from  small  beginnings  made  as 
rapid  a  progress  as  any  city  in  Canada.  It  aspires  to  rival, 
and  looks  with  considerable  jealousy  upon  Toronto,  The  prin- 
cipal journal  of  Hamilton  was,  at  the  time  of  my  arrival,  in 
great  spirits  at  the  supposed  effects  of  a  recent  storm  in  tho 
lake,  which  had  made  a  breach  through  the  long,  narrow  pen- 
insula— six  miles  long,  and  about  twenty  yards  wide — ^with 
its  row  of  trees,  which  protects  the  harbor  of  Toronto.  In 
the  estimation  of  the  writer,  this  catastrophe  had  ruined  To- 
ronto as  a  port.    The  people  of  Toronto,  however,  wore  of  a 


880 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


different  opinion,  and  looked  upon  the  alleged  calamity  an  a 
piece  of  great  good  fortune,  in  saving  them  the  expense  of  cut- 
ting a  previously  projected  canal  through  the  very  place  which 
the  storm  had  so  opportunely  broken  down. 

The  inhabitants  of  Hamilton  call  it  the  *'  ambitious  little 
city ;"  and  if  ambition  is  to  bo  measured  by  deeds  as  well  as 
by  words,  the  promise  is,  in  this  case,  justified  by  the  perform- 
ance. It  is  handsomely  laid  out  with  broad  clean  streets,  and 
built  upon  the  level  of  the  lake.  Behind  it  stretches  what  its 
people  call  "  the  Mountain,"  but  the  summit  of  which  is  mere- 
ly the  real  level  of  the  whole  surrounding  country — the  mar^ 
gin  of  the  great  Lake  of  Ontario  at  a  time,  perhaps  fifty  or  a 
hundred  centuries  ago,  when  its  waters  were  on  a  height  with 
the  upper  rapids  of  Niagara ;  and  when  between  Kingston  and 
the  Thousand  Isles  there  stretched  toward  Quebec  and  the 
Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence  that  other  lake,  no  longer  existent,  in 
which  Montreal  and  Bel  G^il  were  islands,  and  of  which  the 
Laurentian  range  on  the  one  side,  and  the  hills  of  Vermont 
on  the  other,  were  the  boundaries.  The  position  of  Hamilton 
renders  it  extremely  hot  and  close  in  the  summer  months,  and 
such  of  its  inhabitants  as  can  afford  the  luxury  of  country  vil- 
las betake  themselves  to  the  upper  plateaux  of  the  "  mountain" 
in  search  of  the  cool  breezes  which  are  denied  them  in  the 
city.  It  boasts  not  only  a  monster  hotel  on  the  American 
principle,  but  several  fine  churches  and  some  commercial  build- 
ings which  would  do  honor  to  St.  Paul's  Church-yard — among 
others,  that  of  Mr.  M'Innes,  whose  "  dry  goods'  store"  is  upon 
a,^cale  of  magnitude  that  the  great  wholesale  houses  of  Lon- 
don, whether  in  St.  Paul's  Church-yard  or  elsewhere,  have  not 
yet  surpassed.  Hamilton  is  of  a  decidedly  Scottish  character, 
Gaelic  is  often  heard  in  its  streets,  but  not  to  so  great  an  ex- 
tent as  the  Saxon  Doric  of  the  Lowlands.  The  names  over 
the  shop  doors  and  stores  smatk  of  Sutherlandshire,  Inverness- 
shire,  and  Argyllshire.  There  are  a  few  Germans  and  Irish 
to  be  found,  as  there  are  in  every  city  in  America,  but  the 
predominating  race  in  Hamilton  is  the  Scotch — both  Highland 
and  Lowland — all,  or  the  greater  part  of  them,  thriving  and 
well-to-do  persons.     At  Montreal  a  Highlander  introduced 


w 


ii> 


HAMILTON,  LONDON,  AND  OTTAWA. 


881 


liimsolf  to  me  whoso  cottnge  or  hut  had  been  unroofed  by  or- 
der of  the  agents  of  a  great  Highland  proprietor,  and  he  and 
IiIh  wife  and  destitute  family  turned  out  upon  the  highway  to 
live  or  die,  as  they  pleased.     Resolving  not  to  die,  and  putting 
u  bravo  heart  to  a  rough  work,  ho  had  emigrated  to  Canada, 
and,  after  years  of  patient  industry,  had  succeeded  in  csttib- 
lishing  himself  as  a  merchant.    Fortune  had  favored  him,  and 
lie  had  built  a  mansion  on  the  base  of  the  hill  of  Montreal  al- 
most as  large,  substantial,  and  elegant  as  Spencer  House  in 
the  Green  Park  of  London,  or  the  Duke  of  Sutherland's  ad- 
joining.    And  more  than  one  such  instance  of  pro8i)erity, 
achieved  by  indomitable  Highlanders  cleared  out  of  their  small 
holdings  by  the  supposed  necessity  that  impels  great  proprie- 
tors to  make  sheep-farms  of  the  valleys,  and  grouse-shootings 
or  deer-forests  of  the  hill-tops  of  the  Highlands,  were  reported 
to  mo  in  Hamilton  and  in  other  parts  of  Canada.     The  deso- 
late glens  of  Ballahulish,  the  bleak  moorlands  of  the  Black 
Mount,  and  the  wide-stretching  wildernesses  of  the  Reay  For- 
est, or  "Mackay  country,"  have  contributed  many  stout  hearts, 
strong  arms,  and  clear  heads  to  till  the  soil  and  develop  the 
resources  of  Upper  Canada ;  and  though  no  thanks  be  due  to 
such  landlords  in  Scotland  as  think  more  of  their  rents  than 
of  the  peasantry — more  of  money  than  of  men — and  who  de- 
rive a  larger  revenue  from  bare  hill-sides,  where  the  sheep 
pttsturo  with  one  solitary  shepherd  per  square  mile  to  guard 
them,  than  from  the  gl  !?is  and  straths  which  were  formerly 
cultivated  by  hundreds  o'  honest  men  who  could  fight  the 
battles  of  their  country  in  days  of  peril,  the  result  has  in  num- 
berless instances  been,  to  the  advantage  both  of  the  expatri- 
ated people  and  the  new  land  of  their  adoption.     If  Scotland 
have  suffered,  Canada  has  gained ;  and,  "  there  being  a  soul 
of  goodness  in  things  evil,"  the  pauper  of  the  Old  World  has, 
by  a  little  severity — if  not  too  aged  and  decrepit  when  the 
operation  was  tried  upon  him — been  converted  into  the  flour- 
ishing farmer  or  merchant  of  the  New,  by  a  rough  but,  per- 
haps, wholesome  process. 

Want  of  time  prevented  me  from  extending  my  journey 
tliroMgh  the  whole  length  of  Western  Canada  to  Savnia  upon 


■* 


382 


LIFE  AND  LIBEUTY  IN  AMEUIOA. 


I 


the  River  St.  Cluir,  a  place  described  by  a  local  poet,  wlione 
title-page  aUlruis  him  to  bo  both  '^  satirical  aud  acntiuiciitul :" 

t  "  Sarniu  in  a  thriving  town, 

And  lately  was  incor))oratod, 
lIuA  no  rivals  to  pull  licr  down, 

Nur  nono  against  her  can  bo  created." 

I  also  intended  to  visit  the  largo  city  of  Detroit — once  on 
Canadian  soil,  but  now  the  principal  port  of  Michigan  in  the 
United  States — but  had  only  time  to  proceed  as  far  as  Lon- 
don, seventy-six  miles  beyoiid  Hamilton.  Tliis  place  ought 
assuredly  to  have  received  another  name.  It  is  as  interesting 
as  any  city  in  Canada  for  its  rapid  growth,  and  more  so,  per- 
haps, for  the  sudden  check  which  its  prosperity  received  in 
consequence  of  the  recoil  caused  by  the  over-eagcmcss  of  land 
and  building  speculators  to  force  it  into  premature  importance 
by  inadequate  means.  The  name  of  the  place  and  river  was 
originally  "  The  Forks ;"  but  when  its  early  founder  absurdly 
chose  to  call  it  I^ondon,  the  river,  on  the  high  bank  of  which 
it  is  built,  was  with  equal  absurdity  miscalled  the  Thames. 
And  now,  when  it  is  a  city  of  ten  or  twelve  thousand  inhabit- 
ants, and  when  its  streets  are  cither  planned  or  laid  out  in 
anticipation  of  the  day  when  it  shall  number  fifty  thousand 
or  upward,  the  original  idea  has  been  carried  out  to  the  full 
extent  in  the  naming  of  its  principal  buildings  and  thorough- 
fares. Thus  we  have  in  this  "  Forest  City,"  as  it  is  some- 
times called,  Blackfriars'  and  Westminster  Bridges,  Covcnt 
Garden  Market  and  Theatre,  Oxford  Street,  Piccadilly,  Pall 
Mall,  Grosvenor  Street,  and  other  appellations  known  in  the 
world's  metropolis,  and  the  use  of  which,  coupled  with  the 
word  "London,"  very  often  leads  to  serious  mistakes  in  the 
post-office,  and  sends  to  Europe  letters  and  orders  for  goods 
which  are  intended  for  Canada.  Every  one  with  whom  I 
came  in  contact  during  my  visit  was  loud  in  denunciation  of 
the  folly,  and  there  seemed  to  be  a  general  wish  that  the  city 
should  receive  the  name  of  Huron,  as  more  appropriate  and 
distinctive.  Wlien  the  Anglican  bishop  for  this  part  of  Can- 
ada was  appointed,  it  was  intended  to  call  him  Bishop  of 
London;  but  the  inconvenience  of  this  .adoption  of  an  ecclcsi- 


!^^.    * 


UA. 


HAMILTON,  LONDON,  AND  OTTAWA. 


883 


Kjal  poet,  wIlOHO 

dbcntiuiciitul:" 


id:* 

ctroit— once  on 
Michigun  in  the; 
1  as  fur  OS  Lon- 
Lliia  place  ought 
,  19  as  interesting 
nd  more  so,  pcr- 
erity  received  in 
Bagcmcss  of  land 
ature  importance 
CO  and  river  was 
founder  absurdly 
;h  bank  of  which 
[led  the  Thames, 
thousand  inhabit- 
ed or  laid  out  in 
er  fifty  thousand 
id  out  to  the  full 
gs  and  thorough- 
^r,"  as  it  is  some- 
Bridges,  Covcnt 
,  Piccadilly,  PaU 
)ns  known  in  the 
C50upled  with  the 
mistakes  in  the 
orders  for  goods 
ne  with  whom  I 
I  denunciation  of 
vish  that  the  city 
appropriate  and 
this  part  of  Can- 
1  him  Bishop  of 
tion  of  an  ecclesi- 


AMtical  title  already  appropriated  was  felt  to  be  so  cxccsdivc, 
that  on  the  representation  uf  the  Homo  Govcniment  the  new 
prelate  was  called  the  Bi.nhop  of  Huron,  a  precedent  which 
will,  perhaps,  lead  to  the  substitution  of  Huron  for  Ix)ndon  in 
the  name  of  a  city  that  de.'^erves,  and  is  important  enough  to 
ai<sert  its  own  individuality.  Toronto  is  inlinitcly  better  as 
the  name  of  a  city  than  York  ;  Ottawa  is  a  viist  improvement 
upon  Bytown ;  an<l,  generally,  the  Indian  names,  wherever 
they  can  be  adopted,  are  far  more  sonorous,  musical,  and  aj»- 
propriatc  than  any  names  derived  from  the  geogra[)hy  of 
Europe,  or  from  individuals,  illustrious  or  the  reverse,  who 
may  have  chanced  to  possess  the  land  on  which  cities  are 
built. 

London  had  scarcely  recovered  from  the  efTects  of  its  re- 
verse of  fortune  at  the  period  of  my  visit.  Its  "  Great  Amer- 
ican Hotel"  was  shut  up  for  want  of  patronage,  and  a  general 
depression  seemed  to  hang  over  the  place.  But  there  can  bo 
little  doubt,  from  its  situation  on  the  high  road  from  the  At- 
lantic to  the  Pacific,  or,  to  speak  more  moderately,  from  Que- 
bec, Montreal,  and  Toronto  to  Detroit  and  the  Far  West,  that 
London  will  yet  become  a  flourishing  place,  and  justify  the 
sanguine  expectations  of  its  early  founders.  Here,  as  in  Ham- 
ilton and  Toronto,  the  Scotch  muster  in  largo  numbers,  and 
are  among  the  most  thriving  and  respected  of  the  inhabitants. 

It  was  with  regret  that  I  left  unvisited  those  rural  districts 
of  Upper  Canada  where  the  ultra-Highlanders,  turned  out  of 
their  holdings  in  the  north,  have  founded  a  new  Scotland, 
and  where  they  unfortunately,  in  an  unwise  love  of  their 
mother-land,  cultivate  the  Gaelic  to  the  exclusion  of  the  En- 
glish language,  and  where,  with  a  more  pardonable  love  of 
country,  they  keep  up  the  sports  and  games,  the  dress  and 
music  of  the  Gael,  and  are  far  more  Highland  in  their  habits 
and  prejudices  than  Highlanders  at  home.  After  a  short  stay 
in  London  I  turned  my  steps  back  toward  the  east,  to  accept 
an  invitation  to  the  city  of  Ottawa,  the  place  selected  by  her 
majesty  in  council  as  the  future  capital  of  the  United  Prov- 
inces. Proceeding  by  rail  beyond  Toronto  to  Prescott,  a  mis- 
erable town  at  the  eastern  extremity  of  Lake  Ontario,  where 


m 


ip; 


t 

I 


I'M 


884 


LIFE  AND  LIHEUTY  IN  AMERICA. 


it  nurrow«  into  tho  St.  Liiwrcnco,  and  thrcndj*  tho  inazoit  of  tlio 
ThuiiHnnd  It^lett,  I  fxiSHud  tliu  ni^lit  in  r«  funrth-mto  inn,  at\(>r 
tho  KngliHli,  and  not  after  tlic  AmcriMin  fashion,  and  woefully 
remarked  tho  ditfereuce.  In  tho  morning  I  proceeded  to  tho 
station  of  tho  railway,  rirst  opened  for  trailic  in  DecomlxT, 
1854,  and  waited  for  some  timo  tho  departure  of  tho  tardy 
train,  amid  a  loud  and  exultant  chorus  of  bull-frogs,  amunin;; 
mynelf  at  times  by  looking  at  the  frogs,  and  thinking  of  tho 
linctt  of  the  poet  of  Sarnia, 

♦'Thin  pond  is  full  of  toarls  nntl  frog^, 
And  hero  and  thcru  of  rotten  logs;" 

and  of  his  exclamation  to  tho  boys  who  pelted  them  with 
Btonos  when  they  croaked  "  Strong  rum  !  strong  rum  I" 

"Oh,  how  can  man  be  so  nnjust 
Ah  thus  betray  IiIh  Maker's  trust? 
Yes,  tyrant  man  acts  thus  unholy,  t 

Ills  hopes  of  heaven's  a  /ii/perboli/  /" 

But  my  principal  amusement  was  to  watch  the  antics  of  an 
unconscionably  numerous  family  of  little  ones  belonging  to 
an  Irish  squatter  who  had  taken  possession  of  a  piece  of  land 
by  tho  road-side,  and  built  himself  a  very  respectable  log  hut, 
or  wigwam,  for  it  partook  more  of  the  nature  of  a  savage  than 
of  a  civilized  cditice.  At  last  we  started,  and  in  the  coui-sc 
of  three  hours  got  over  tho  distance  of  fifty-one  miles,  and  ar- 
rived safely  at  Ottawa,  on  the  border-line  between  Upper  and 
Lower  Canada — tho  very  place  that  any  intelligent  person, 
unaware  of,  or  making  no  allowance  for  established  interests 
or  ancient  jealousies,  would  select,  after  a  study  of  the  map, 
as  the  most  eligible  and  proper  site  for  the  capital  of  the  two 
Canadas.  And  if  a  capital  can  be  artificially  created,  Ottawa 
will  be  the  capital  of  Canada.  But  as  there  are  more  things 
necessary  for  a  capital  than  an  act  of  the  Legislature  and  the 
assembling  of  a  Parliament  within  its  boundaries,  and  as  com- 
merce has  laws  of  its  own  over  which  Parliaments — imperial 
or  provincial — are  utterly  powerless,  it  is  tolerably  certain 
that  Ottawa  never  will  become  the  commercial  metropolis  or 
the  greatest  and  most  populous  city  of  Canada.  As  the  small 
city  of  Albany  is  to  the  large  city  of  New  York,  as  Columbus 


!A. 


HAMILTON,  LONDON,  AND  OTTAWA. 


885 


0  raft35C8  of  the 
■rate  inn,  ut'tor 
i,  and  woefully 
•occcdcd  to  the 

1  in  DcccinlHT, 
0  of  the  tardy 
-frogs,  ainusin;: 
thinking  of  tlic 


Ucd  tlicm  with 
)iig  rum  1" 


I  the  antics  of  an 
ncs  belonging  to 
)f  a  piece  of  land 
pectable  log  hut, 
of  a  savage  than 
,d  in  the  coui-sc 
ne  miles,  and  ar- 
,ween  Upper  and 
telligent  person, 
iblished  interests 
udy  of  the  map, 
pital  of  the  two 
created,  Ottawa 
are  more  things 
^islature  and  the 
ies,  and  as  com- 
ments— imperial 
olerably  certain 
|ial  metropolis  or 
As  the  small 
•rk,  as  Columbus 


is  to  Cincinnati,  and  Baton  Rougo  to  New  Orleans,  go  will 
the  small  legislative  city  of  Ottawa  bo  to  the  grctit  commercial 
emporium  of  Montreal.     Montn>al  is  the  real  capital  of  the 
Cnnadas,  and  will  continue  to  Ijo  ho,  whatever  progress  may 
be  made  either  by  such  rival  cities  as  Toronto  on  the  one  side, 
and  Quebec  on  the  other,  and  by  such  a  neutnd  city  as  Ot- 
tawa, where  the  Canadian  Parliament  may  well  meet,  but 
where  Canadian  merchants  will  most  assuredly  never  congre- 
gate to  the  same  extent  as  in  the  cities  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 
For  the  legislative  capital  Ottawa  possesses  many  advantages 
of  position,  especially  when  considered  in  reference  to  the  now 
extinguished  jealousies  of  the  Upper  and  Lower  Canadians, 
and  the  possibility,  though  not  the  probability,  of  a  war  with 
the  United  States.     In  the  last  supposed  case,  Toronto  would 
be  at  the  mercy  of  a  coup  de  main ;  and  if  Canada  were  inde- 
pendent and  the  nucleus  of  another  and  self-supporting  system 
of  allied  commonwealths,  in  case  of  a  purely  American  war, 
in  which  Great  Britain  had  no  concern,  Montreal,  since  the 
abandonment  of  Rouse's  Point  and  a  lai^e  portion  of  Maine 
by  the  short-sighted  stipulations  of  the  Ashburton  Treaty, 
would  scarcely  be  defensible  against  an  invading  force  from 
the  United  States.     Quebec,  it  is  true,  with  its  strong  natural 
position,  rendered  stronger  by  art,  might  bid  defiance  to  any 
force  dispatched  against  it ;  but  fortresses  do  not  make  the 
most  eligible  capitals,  and  for  this  reason  Quebec  is  objection- 
able.    No  such  arguments  apply  against  Ottawa ;  and  though 
the  selection  made  by  her  majesty,  at  the  request  of  the  Cana- 
dians themselves,  whose  jealousies  and  predilections  in  favor 
of  Montreal,  Toronto,  Quebec,  Kingston,  and  other  places, 
rendered  their  agreement  impossible,  was  somewhat  ungra- 
ciously and  ungenerously  repudiated  for  a  time,  the  Canadian 
Parliament  has  at  length  acquiesced,  and  the  question  may 
now  be  considered  decided.     Ottawa  will  be  the  future  cap- 
ital of  Canada,  town  lots  will  rise  in  value,  and  the  holders 
of  real  property  in  and  around  it  will  grow  rich  in  conse- 
quence. 

The  original  name  of  Ottawa  was  Bytown,  derived  from 
Colonel  By,  an  officer  of  engineers,  who  led  to  its  foundation 

R 


886 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


P. 


in  1826  by  the  construction  of  the  famous  Rideau  Canal, 
which  connects  the  Ottawa  River  with  Lake  Ontario.  It 
was  found  during  the  last  war  with  the  United  States,  that 
the  transport  of  ordnance  and  other  military  stores  up  the  St. 
Lawrence  was  rendered  both  difficult  and  hazardous,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  attacks  made  upon  the  vessels  from  the  Amer- 
ican side,  and  a  bill  was  introduced  into  the  Imperial  Parlia- 
ment for  the  construction  of  a  canal  to  obviate  this  danger 
and  inconvenience.  The  project  was  warmly  supported  for 
strategical  reasons  by  the  Duke  of  Wellington ;  and  having 
passed  both  houses,  and  received  the  royal  assent,  Colonel  By, 
the  original  projector,  was  intrusted  with  the  execution  of  the 
works,  and  the  canal  was  opened  in  1832.  Its  cost  was  up- 
ward of  £800,000  sterling. 

The  locks  of  the  canal  are  of  the  most  substantial  masonry, 
and  so  many  men  were  employed  for  some  years  in  complet- 
ing the  works  that  the  little  village  of  Bytown  grew  in  im- 
portance, until  by  degrees  it  began  to  arrogate  to  itself  the 
name  of  a  town,  and  afterward  of  a  city.  In  the  year  1854 
its  name  was  changed  to  Ottawa,  and  its  present  population, 
including  that  of  its  suburb  of  New  Edinburgh,  is  estimated 
at  about  10,000.  The  Rideau  Canal  divides  it  into  the  Up- 
per and  Lower  Town.  Its  principal  commerce  is  in  timber, 
both  sawn  and  square,  the  staple  of  Canada,  for  the  transport 
of  which  from  the  rivers  of  the  interior  it  possesses  unrivaled 
natural  advantages  in  the  Ottawa  and  the  almost  equally  im- 
portant streams,  the  Gatineau  and  the  Rideau.  The  sites 
for  the  new  Parliament  House  and  other  public  buildings 
have  been  already  selected ;  and  if  the  edifices  themselves  are 
worthy  of  the  imposing  situation  on  which  it  is  proposed  to 
place  them,  Ottawa  will  become  one  of  the  most  picturesque 
cities  in  America. 

Ottawa  is  sometimes  called  the  "  City  of  the  Woods,"  but 
a  more  appropriate  name  would  be  the  "City  of  the  Tor- 
rents ;"  for  it  may  truly  be  said  that  no  city  in  the  world,  not 
even  the  stra^ling  village,  dignified  with  the  name  of  a  city, 
that  has  been  laid  out  on  the  American  side  of  Niagara,  con- 
tains within  it,  or  near  it,  such  splendid  waterfalls  as  those 


SHOOTING  THE  RAPIDS. 


887 


lidcau  Canal, 
Ontario.  It 
d  States,  that 
)res  up  the  St. 
rdous,  in  con- 
•om  the  Amer- 
Qperial  Parlia- 
ite  this  danger 
'  supported  for 
11 ;  and  having 
snt,  Colonel  By, 
ixecution  of  the 
ts  cost  was  up- 

tantial  masonry, 
ears  in  complet- 
iwn  grew  in  im- 
rate  to  itself  the 
:n  the  year  1854 
isent  population, 
•gh,  is  estimated 
_  it  into  the  Up- 
irce  is  in  timber, 
for  the  transport 
jssesses  unrivaled 
imost  equally  im- 
leau.     The  sites 
public  buildings 
js  themselves  are 
it  is  proposed  to 
tost  picturesque 

I  the  Woods,"  but 
pity  of  the  Tor- 
fin  the  world,  not 
|e  name  of  a  city, 
of  Niagara,  con- 
iterfalls  as  those 


of  which  Ottawa  can  boast.  The  two  falls  of  the  Kideau  into 
the  Ottawa  at  the  commencement  of  the  suburb  of  New  Edin- 
burgh would  be  of  themselves  objects  of  great  beauty  .and 
grandeur  were  they  not  eclipsed  by  the  Chaudiere,  or  Falls 
of  the  Ottawa,  a  cataract  that  possesses  many  features  of 
sublimity  that  not  even  the  great  Niagara  itself  can  surpass. 
To  stand  on  the  rock  below  the  sawmill,  looking  down  the 
boiling  and  foaming  flood  toward  the  Suspension  Bridge  that 
spans  the  fearful  abyss,  is  to  behold  a  scene  of  greater  turbu- 
lence, if  not  of  greater  majesty,  than  Niagara  can  show  with 
all  its  world  of  waters.  The  river  does  not  leap  precipitously 
over  a  sudden  impediment  as  at  Niagara,  but  rushes  down  a 
long  inclined  plane,  intersected  by  ledges  of  rock,  with  a  fury 
that  turns  dizzy  the  brain  of  those  who  gaze  too  long  and 
earnestly  upon  the  spectacle,  and  that  no  power  of  poet's  or 
painter's  genius  can  describe.  No  painting  can  do  justice  to 
a  waterfall,  and  words,  though  capable  of  more  than  the  pen- 
cil and  the  brush,  are  but  feeble  to  portray,  except  in  the  old, 
stale  set  terms  that  have  been  well-nigh  worn  out  in  the  serv- 
ice of  enthusiasm,  the  ineffable  magnificence  of  such  mighty 
forces,  obeying  forever  and  ever  the  simple  law  of  gravitation. 
If  Niagara  may  claim  to  be  Uie  first  and  noblest  cataract  in 
the  world,  the  Chaudiere  at  Ottawa  may  claim  to  rank  as 
second.  And  if  ever  the  day  comes  when  American  travel 
shall  be  as  fashionable  and  attractive  as  travel  in  Europe,  no 
one  will  cross  the  Atlantic  without  paying  a  pilgrimage  to 
the  multitudinous  waterfalls  of  Canada,  or  think  his  journey 
complete  unless  he  has  visited  both  Niagara  and  the  Ottawa. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

SHOOTING   THE   RAPIDS. 


Not  having  time  to  visit  Kingston,  which,  although  it  was 
once  the  capital  of  Upper  Canada,  has  dropped  somehow  or 
other  out  of  the  line  of  march,  and  become  a  place  almost  as 
unprogressive  and  stagnant  as  its  namesake  in  England,  I  was 
advised  to  make  the  town  of  Prescott  my  point  of  departure 


888 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


for  a  new  and  more  beautiful  trip  on  the  St.  Lawrence  tha^ 
I  bad  yet  undertaken.  The  scenery  of  the  river  between  Pres- 
cott  and  Montreal  was  declared  to  be  grander  and  more  varied 
than  in  any  other  part  of  its  course ;  for  within  the  distance  of 
120  miles  between  the  two  were  to  be  seen  not  only  a  portion 
of  the  fairy-like  panorama  of  tlie  Thousand  Isles,  which  com- 
mence at  Kingston,  where  the  St.  Lawrence,  issuing  from  Lake 
Ontario,  first  assumes  its  name,  but  the  long  series  of  rapids, 
the  '^shooting"  of  which  is  a  feat  which  must  be  accomplished 
by  every  traveler  in  Canada  who  desires  to  sow  the  seeds  of 
the  "  pleasures  of  memory."  Upon  this  advice  I  shaped  my 
course.  Bidding  farewell  to  my  kind  and  hospitable  name- 
sakes in  the  city  of  Ottawa,  I  took  my  seat  in  the  car,  and 
the  train  soon  brought  me  to  the  little,  dull,  insignificant  town 
of  Prescott,  where,  lodged  like  the  great  Villiers,  Duke  of 
Buckingham,  "  in  the  worst  inn's  worst  room,"  I  was  com- 
pelled to  await  the  arrival  of  the  steamer  bound  from  Toronto 
to  Montreal.  Let  me  qualify  the  expression.  My  temporary 
abode  was  in  reality  the  "  best  inn's  best  room ;"  but  when 
best  and  worst  are  equally  intolerable,  or  not  to  be  distin- 
guished the  one  from  the  other  by  a  hair's  breadth,  it  does  not 
greatly  signify  which  epithet  be  used. 

As  there  had  been  a  storm  on  the  lake  during  two  days 
previous,  the  steamer  was  beyond  the  advertised  time,  though 
hourly  expected,  and  I  had  to  amuse  myself  as  best  I  could 
in  an  inchoate  village  in  which  there  was  nothing  whatever  to 
be  seen  or  learned,  and  not  even  a  newspaper  to  read.  It  is 
true  that  during  the  Canadian  rebellion  Prescott  was  invaded 
from  the  American  shore  by  a  too  adventurous  Pole,  named 
Von  Schulze,  at  the  head  of  a  small  band  of  filibusters,  and 
that  he  was  captured  by  the  British  commanding  officer,  and 
hanged  forthwith.  But  there  was  nothing  in  this  historical 
incident  to  invest  Prescott  with  additional  attraction.  Bight 
opposite,  upon  the  southern  bank  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  and  in 
hourly  communication  with  Prescott  by  a  steam  ferry-boat, 
stood  Ogdensburg,  in  the  State  of  New  York,  whence  Von 
Schulze's  expedition  started.  As  it  was  apparently  a  lai^e 
and  populous  city,  I  very  much  longed  to  visit  it,  if  but  to  pass 


SHOOTING  THE  RAPIDS. 


880 


the  time.     But  it  was  unsafe  to  run  the  risk  of  an  hour's  ab- 
sence, for  the  Toronto  boat  might  arrive  at  any  moment,  and 
would  not  delay  at  the  wharf  at  Frescott  above  five  minutes. 
As  things  turned  out,  I  might  have  safely  gone  to  Ogdensburg, 
for  hour  after  hour  passed  away,  noon  succeeded  to  morning, 
evening  to  noon,  and  night  to  evening,  lengthening  themselves 
out  till  they  were  as  attenuated  as  my  weariness,  and  still 
there  was  no  tidings  of  the  tardy  steamer.    At  midnight,  worn 
out,  sleepy,  and,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  somewhat  out  of 
patience  with  the  place,  I  lay  down  in  my  clothes  upon  the 
bed  with  strict  injunctions  to  a  messenger  whom  I  had  kept 
all  day  in  my  pay  to  arouse  me  the  moment  the  steamer  ap- 
peared in  sight.    At  three  in  the  morning,  sixteen  hours  after 
her  time,  the  lights  of  the  approaching  vessel  came  Within 
view  of  my  scout.    I  was  duly  aroused,  according  to  agree- 
ment, with  two  other  expectant  passengers,  the  one  from  Hart- 
ford, in  Connecticut,  and  the  other  from  Chicago.     Guided 
through  the  dark  and  muddy  streets  by  a  man  with  a  lantern, 
we  had  the  mortification  to  arrive  at  the  wharf  just  three  min- 
utes too  late,  the  steamer  having  landed  a  passenger  in  hot 
haste,  and  started  ofi*  again  without  waiting  to  ascertain  wheth- 
er there  were  any  others  to  come  on  board.   We  saw  the  lights 
of 'her  stem-cabins  shining  brightly  through  the  gloom  of  the 
night ;  and  the  man  of  Connecticut,  who  was  very  anxious  to 
get  on,  having  vented  his  wrath  and  his  disgust  in  a  volley  of 
imprecations  in  the  choicest  Yankee  slang,  we  retraced  our 
steps,  in  the  worst  possible  humor,  to  the  inn,  and  held  a  coun- 
cil of  war  around  the  stove.     The  Yankee  ordered  a  glass  of 
"  whisky-skin,"  very  hot,  which  restored  him  to  something 
like  equanimity,  and  the  agent  of  the  boat,  who  was  responsi- 
ble for  not  having  given  the  captain  the  proper  signal  to  stop, 
having,  as  in  duty  bound,  thrown  the  entire  blame  of  our  dis- 
appointment upon  the  absent  skipper,  we  went  quietly  to  bed, 
to  await  the  next  regular  boat,  the  Kingston,  due  at  eight  in 
the  morning.   Much  to  our  satisfaction,  the  Kingston  was  punc- 
tual to  her  time.    The  weather  was  magnificent,  and  we  start- 
ed for  Montreal,  none  the  worse  for  our  disappointment  in 
body  or  mind,  and  but  little  lighter  in  pocket ;  for  if  the  hotel 


890 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


m 


ti^.j 


in  which  we  had  wasted  the  day  was  bad,  we  had  but  little 
to  pay,  and  might  have  exclaimed  with  the  Englishman  who 
traveled  for  the  first  time  in  a  railway  car  from  New  York  to 
Philadelphia,  '^  that  we  never  had  so  large  an  amount  of  dis- 
comfort for  so  small  an  amount  of  money." 

The  "  Thousand  Isles,"  through  which  the  St.  Lawrence 
winds  its  way  in  beautiful  intricacy  from  Lake  Ontario  to  the 
Bapids  of  the  Long  Sault,  are  said  to  number  in  reality  con- 
siderably upward  of  a  thousand,  if  not  of  fifteen  hundred ;  and 
though,  in  embarking  at  Prescott,  we  may  have  missed  two 
thirds  of  them,  we  saw  sufficient  to  be  enabled  to  judge  of 
their  variety  and  loveliness.  Some  of  them  were  fringed  with 
trees  to  the  river's  bank  ;  others  were  smooth,  flat,  and  grassy 
as  a  bowling-green ;  some  were  rocky,  bare,  and  small  as  a 
dining-table  ;  while  others  were  of  fifty  or  a  hundred  acres  in 
extent,  and  presented  hill  and  dale,  wood  and  coppice,  meadow 
and  pasture  to  our  view,  as  the  steamer  shot  rapidly  by,  some- 
times in  a  narrow  but  deep  channel,  scarcely  wider  than  our 
deck,  and  at  others  through  a  reach  of  the  river  as  broad  as 
the  Thames  at  Waterloo  Bridge.  The  man  from  Connecticut, 
one  of  that  class  of  Job's  comforters  who  will  never  allow  a 
stranger  to  enjoy  the  loveliness  of  any  natural  scene  present 
and  palpable  before  him  without  reminding  him  that  he  has 
left  unvisited  something  still  finer  which  he  might  and  ought 
to  have  seen,  emphatically  made  me  understand  that  all  this 
beauty  was  as  nothing  to  the  scenery  between  Kingston  and 
Prescott ;  that  I  had  been  misdirected  and  misinformed ;  that 
I  had  not  seen  any  portion  of  the  real  "  Thousand  Isles  ;"  and 
that  the  little  "  scraps"  of  rock  and  island  amid  which  we 
were  passing,  and  which  to  my  eyes  appeared  quite  fairy-like 
in  their  beauty  and  multitudinous  in  their  number,  were  mere 
"  humbugs"  and  "false  pretenders."  This  personage,  hard  as 
he  tried,  was  not  able  to  mar  my  enjoyment  by  his  companion- 
ship ;  and  even  he  became  excited  as  we  approached  Dicken- 
son's Landing,  shortly  below  which  commences  the  Great  Rapid 
of  the  Long  Sault,  or  "  Long  Leap,"  pronounced  Long  Soo  by 
the  Americans  and  the  English.  Having  taken  in  one  and 
disembarked  another  passenger,  we  prepared  to  "  shoot"  the 


SHOOTING  THE  RAPIDS. 


801 


lad  but  little 
lishman  who 
New  York  to 
nount  of  dis- 

St.  Lawrence 
)ntario  to  the 
1  reality  con- 
bundred ;  and 
re  missed  two 
a  to  judge  of 
e  fringed  with 
lat,  and  grassy 
nd  small  as  a 
ndred  acres  in 
ppice,  meadow 
pidly  by,  some- 
vider  than  our 
er  as  broad  as 
□a  Connecticut, 
never  allow  a 
scene  present 
m  that  he  has 
ight  and  ought 
I  that  all  this 
Kingston  and 
informed;  that 
nd  Isles ;"  and 
mid  which  we 
quite  fairy-like 
ber,  were  mere 
onage,  hard  as 
is  companion- 
•ached  Dicken- 
le  Great  Kapid 
[d  Long  Soo  by 
in  in  one  and 
,0  "  shoot"  the 


rapid,  and  all  became  bustle  and  excitement  on  board.     The 
order  was  given  to  let  off  steam,  and  at  a  sudden  bend  of  the 
river,  where  the  banks  seemed  as  if  they  had  contracted  to 
deepen  the  channel,  the  white  crests  of  the  waves,  foaming 
like  the  breakers  on  a  rocky  coast,  became  visible,  and  the 
roar  of  the  descending  waters  was  heard,  dull,  heavy,  and 
monotonous,  but  grand  as  a  requiem  sounded  from  a  cathe- 
dral.    Most  of  the  ladies,  and  more  than  one  of  the  rougher 
sex,  whose  nerves  were  unable  to  bear  the  excitement  of  the 
scene,  retired  into  their  state-rooms  or  the  saloon ;  and  those 
who  had  resolved  to  stay  upon  deck  provided  themselves  with 
plaids  and  wrappers  as  a  protection  against  any  sudden  dash 
of  the  waters,  should  our  fast-driving  keel  strike  against  a  bil- 
low at  an  angle  too  acute.    We  kept  to  the  northern  or  Cana- 
dian side  of  the  rapid,  which,  in  the  days  ere  steam-vessels 
plowed  these  stormy  waters,  and  when  the  only  craft  that 
ventured  down  were  the  light  canoes  of  the  Indians,  was  sup- 
posed to  be  more  dangerous  than  the  other,  and  called  *^  La 
Rapide  des  Perdus,"  or  the  Bapid  of  the  Lost.     We  were 
speedily  in  the  midst  of  great  round  eddies  twenty  or  thirty 
feet  in  diameter,  and.  ere  we  had  time  to  admire  them,  shot 
down  fast  as  a  railway  express  from  London  to  Brighton,  or 
faster  if  that  be  possible,  in  the  bubbling,  raging,  foaming, 
thundering,  and  maddening  waters,  our  prow  casting  up  clouds 
of  spray  that  drenched  the  deck,  and  formed  rainbows  ere  they 
fell.     At  intervals  there  came  some  tremendous  *^  thud'*  on 
the  side  of  the  steamer,  causing  her  to  stagger  and  shiver 
through  all  her  framework,  like  a  living  creature  mortally 
wounded,  and  the  spray,  mounting  as  high  as  the  top  of  the 
funnel,  fell  like  a  torrent  upon  the  deck.     Then  a  moment  of 
comparative  calm  succeeded,  to  be  followed  by  another  thud 
and  another  shower.     In  the  space  of  live  hundred  yards, 
which  we  shot  through  in  from  two  to  three  minutes,  but 
which  one  lady,  very  much  alarmed  and  excited,  declared  had 
occupied  us  half  an  hour,  the  St.  Lawrence  falls  no  less  than 
thirty  feet,  a  declivity  more  than  sufficient  to  account  for  this 
magnificent  perturbation  and  "  hell  of  waters."     The  whole 
scene,  heightened  by  the  novelty,  the  excitement,  and  the  dan- 


i 


892 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


I 


tM         1      ' 


ger,  impressed  itself  upon  my  mind  as  the  third  greatest  mar- 
vel that  I  had  seen  in  America,  and  only  next  to  the  Kapids 
and  Falls  of  Niagara  and  the  Chaudiere  at  Ottawa.  Now 
that  the  feat  is  accomplished  almost  every  day  by  large  steam- 
ers, the  Canadians  and  Americans  look  upon  it  as  a  matter  of 
course,  and  do  not  seem  to  be  really  aware  of  the  danger  of 
the  achievement  and  the  grandeur  of  the  scene.  If  he  were  a 
bold  man  who  ate  the  first  oyster,  heroic  and  of  Titanic  en- 
ergy and  audacity  was  the  captain  or  pilot  of  the  first  steam- 
vessel  that  ever  braved  the  frantic  whirlpools  of  the  Long 
Sault,  and  came  out  triumphantly  from  among  them. 

We  were  again  in  smooth  water  in  much  less  time  than  it 
takes  to  tell  the  story,  and  in  about  three  quarters  of  an  hour 
stopped  for  a  few  minutes  at  Cornwall,  the  frontier  town  of 
Canada  West,  and  were  again  in  sight  of  the  land  of  the  Habi- 
tans.  Steaming  on  once  more  through  a  succession  of  stoall 
islands — and  the  St.  Lawrence  most  certainly  contains  ten 
times,  if  not  twenty  or  fifty  times,  as  many  islands  as  any 
other  river  known  to  travelers  or  geographers — ^we  emerged 
into  the  broad,  quiet  Lake  St.  Francis,  also  studded  with  inl- 
ands. This  lake,  or  enlargement  of  the  river,  is  about  fifty 
miles  in  length,  but  of  a  breadth  scarcely  sufficient  to  justify 
its  appellation  of  lake  in  preference  to  that  of  river.  At  its 
eastern  extremity  is  the  little  town  of  Coteau  du  Lac,  where 
commences  a  new  series  of  rapids,  all  of  which  we  had  to 
"  shoot,"  and  the  first  of  which  is  at  a  short  distance  beyond 
the  town.  It  is  one  of  the  rapidest  of  the  rapids ;  and  our 
steamer  shot  it  like  an  arrow  in  two  minutes,  and  launched 
itself  into  a  deep,  and  comparatively  placid  but  strong  cur- 
rent, where  we  scarcely  required  the  aid  of  steam  to  carry  us 
along  at  the  rate  of  twelve  miles  an  hour.  Becoming  biases 
with  rapids,  as  people  will  do  with  almost  every  thing  in  this 
world  except  sleep,  we  passed  in  succession  the  Cascades  and 
the  Cedars,  the  latter  with  its  little  church  and  tin  spire,  built 
upon  the  shore  of  the  foaming  current,  suggesting  in  a  new 
form  Byron's  beautiful  though  well-worn  simile  of  "love 
watching  madness."  To  these  succeeded  the  Bapid  of  Beau- 
hamais,  after  shooting  which  with  the  accustomed  drenching, 


SHOOTING  THE  BAFIDS. 


898 


though  with  less  excitement  among  the  strangers  than  hod 
been  exhibited  at  the  Long  Sault,  wo  glided  into  another  ex- 
pansion of  the  river,  known  as  the  I^ake  St.  Louis,  at  the  ex- 
tremity of  which  the  dark  brown  and  turbid  Ottawa  mingles 
with  the  blue  and  clear  St.  Lawrence.  Here  wo  came  in  sight 
of  the  large  island  of  Montreal,  which  interposes  itself  between 
the  uniting  but  not  commingling  rivers,  the  one  of  which  rises 
far  in  the  farthest  West,  and  the  other  runs  through  a  coun- 
try scarcely  half  explored,  except  by  forlorn  remnants  of  the 
Indians,  and  the  scouts,  trappers,  and  fur-traders  of  the  Hud- 
son's  Bay  Company.  The  Ottawa,  seen  in  the  distance  from 
Lake  St.  Louis,  looks  broad  as  an  estuary  widening  into  a  sea, 
but  it  speedily  narrows  and  sweeps  along  the  northern  shore 
of  Montreal  island  to  effect  a  second  junction  with  the  St. 
Lawrence,  of  which  the  deeper  and  moro  vigorous  current 
rushes  impetuously  to  the  south,  down  a  steep  incline  to  La- 
chine,  the  last  of  the  magnificent  series  of  the  rapids.  Lachine 
— so  called  by  au  early  navigator,  who  imagined,  as  Hendrik 
Hudson  did  a  little  farther  south,  that  he  had  found  the  west- 
ern passage  to  China — ^is  nine  miles  above  the  city  of  Montreal, 
and  the  roar  of  the  rapids  may  be  heard  in  the  still  midnight 
in  the  streets  of  Montreal,  when  the  wind  is  from  the  west, 
almost  as  distinctly  as  if  the  torrent  were  in  the  heart  of  the 
town. 

The  Bapids  of  Lachine,  though  they  do  not  run  a  courso  so 
lengthened  as  the  Long  Sault,  and  are  not  in  themselves  grand- 
er or  more  picturesque,  are  &r  more  perilous  to  navigate. 
They  are  jagged,  and  dotted  both  with  sunken  and  visible 
rocks,  scattered  in  most  perplexing  confusion,  lengthways  or 
athwart,  at  every  possible  and  apparently  impossible  angle, 
amid  the  rushing  waters.  Any  one  beholding  the  turmoil  of 
the  flood,  and  the  innumerable  Scyllas  on  the  one  side,  bal- 
anced by  as  many  Charybdises  on  the  other,  would  be  quito 
justified — if  no  previous  adventurer  had  made  the  perilous 
journey — in  pronouncing  the  attempt  to  "  shoot"  them,  either 
in  large  vessel  or  small  skiff,  an  act  beyond  foolhardiness — a 
reckless  tempting  of  Fate,  if  not  a  proof  of  positive  insanity. 
But  the  feat  was  continually  accomplished  by  the  Indians  of 

R2 


894 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


ft  \ 


Caughnawaga,  opposite  to  Lachine,  at  the  head  of  the  rapids, 
in  their  frail  canoes,  long  before  the  white  man  and  his  steam- 
vessels  had  penetrated  to  the  shores  of  the  St.  Lawrence ;  and 
the  danger  and  the  means  of  surmounting  it  became  alike  fa- 
miliar to  them.  Whether  by  treaty,  and  as  a  recompense  for 
the  surrender  of  their  lands,  or  whether  entirely  on  account 
of  their  superior  knowledge  of  the  intricacies  of  the  rapids,  or 
whether  for  both  reasons  in  combination,  was  not  made  clear 
to  my  comprehension,  either  by  the  individuals,  or  the  books 
that  I  consulted  on  the  point ;  but  for  some  of  these  reasons, 
if  not  for  all,  the  Indians  of  Caughnawaga — a  remnant  of  the 
Iroquois— enjoy  the  legal  monopoly  of  the  pilotage.  Letting 
off  steam  at  Caughnawaga,  we  lay  to,  opposite  the  village,  for 
a  few  minutes,  to  allow  the  pilot  to  come  on  board.  The 
squaws  and  other  idlers  turned  out  in  considerable  numbers  to 
the  shore  to  witness  our  passage,  and  I  saw  enough  of  the  vil- 
lage, which  is  inhabited  entirely  by  the  Indians,  to  excite  a 
desire  to  visit  it,  if  only  to  investigate  the  kind  of  life  they  lead 
in  their  state  of  semi-barbarism,  and  what  progress  they  have 
made  in  the  arts  of  civilization.  It  was  evident,  even  from 
the  shore,  that  they  had  not  been  entirely  neglected  by  the 
clergy,  for  a  handsome  Roman  Catholic  church,  with  the  glit- 
tering tin  spire,  universal  in  Lower  Canada,  proved  that  their 
spiritual  welfare  had  been  deemed  a  matter  of  importance. 
The  zeal  of  the  Roman  Catholics  for  the  extension  of  their 
faith  in  Canada,  and  the  wealth  they  have  scraped  together 
for  the  purpose,  should  make  Protestants  blush  for  their  own 
lukewarmness.  The  immediate  successors  of  Jacques  Cartier, 
by  introducing  not  only  the  feudal  tenures,  but  the  ecclesias- 
tical zeal  of  Old  France  into  the  New  France  which  they 
founded,  proved  that  they  knew  how  to  colonize  upon  system. 
They  left  nothing  to  hazard,  and,  wherever  they  went,  the 
Pope  and  the  Church  went  with  them ;  an  example  which 
the  Church  of  England  seems  never  to  have  had  the  zeal  or 
the  wisdom  to  follow,  except  lately  in  a  small  comer  of  New 
Zealand.  I  was  not  able  to  carry  into  effect  my  design  of 
visiting  the  Iroquois  in  their  village,  but  learned  that  their 
advances  toward  civilization  have  not  extended  much  beyond 


SHOOTING  THE  RAPIDS. 


895 


coBtume  and  the  love  of  <<  fire-water ;"  that  the  gipsy  ele- 
ment is  strong  in  them,  and  that  continuous  hard  labor  is  con- 
sidered fitter  for  squaws  than  for  men. 

Our  pilot  started  from  shore  in  a  canoe,  and,  on  reaching 
the  "Kingston,"  sprang  nimbly  upon  deck — an  indubitable 
Bed  Man,  but  without  paint  and  feathers — in  the  European 
costume  of  his  vocation.  He  had  a  keen  black  eye  and  a  quick 
hand,  and  seemed  to  be  fully  aware  of  the  importance  of  the 
task  ho  had  undertaken,  and  of  the  necessity  that  lay  upon 
him  to  have  every  faculty  of  mind  and  body  on  the  alert,  to 
carry  our  vessel  in  safety  down  this  frantic  staircase  of  seventy 
feet  in  a  run  of  about  three  miles,  intersected  and  encumbered 
by  many  rocks,  and  with  a  current  rushing,  in  some  places, 
at  the  rate  of  fifteen  or  twenty  miles  an  hour.  Our  trusty 
pilot  was  equal  to  his  work.  He  was  all  nerve — and  nerves 
— and  at  one  point  more  especially  of  our  mad  career,  when 
wo  seemed  to  be  running  right  upon  a  point  of  rock  project- 
ing about  two  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  torrent,  to  be  in- 
evitably dashed  to  pieces,  a  sudden  turn  of  his  wrist  altered 
our  course  instantaneously,  and  sent  us  down  a  long  reach, 
amid  showers  of  dashing  spray,  at  reckless  speed,  like  a  rail- 
way train,  full  tilt  upon  another  heap  of  rocks,  that  seemed 
absolutely  to  bar  the  passage.  A  delay  of  one  second  in  al- 
tering our  course  would  have  been  certain  perdition ;  but  the 
mind  of  the  Ked  Man,  quick  as  electricity,  communicated  its 
impulse  ta  his  hand,  and  his  hand,  with  the  same  rapidity,  to 
the  wheel,  and  away  we  were  again,  before  we  could  draw 
breath,  safe  in  deep  waters,  dancing  along  impetuously,  but 
safely,  into  new  dangers,  to  be  as  splendidly  and  triumphantly 
surmounted.  The  trees  upon  either  side  seemed  to  pass  out 
of  our  field  of  vision  as  instantaneously  as  the  phantasma- 
goria seen  in  a  magic  lantern  ;  and  when  we  darted  at  last 
into  the  blue  water,  and  saw  far  behind  us  the  snowy  wreaths 
and  feathery  crests  of  the  mountainous  waves  through  which 
our  ship  had  whizzed  like  an  arrow,  the  propriety  of  the  ex- 
pression, '^  shooting  the  rapids,"  needed  no  justification  but 
tliis  scene  and  its  remembrance.  It  should  be  stated  that,  al- 
though many  canoea  and  boats  have  been  lost  in  the  rapids, 


396 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMEKICA. 


no  accident  has  ever  yet  happened  to  a  Btcam-vessel  in  navi- 
gating them. 

We  speedily  arrived  at  what  is  called  the  "  Tail  of  the  Kap- 
ids/'  a  strong  but  equable  current ;  after  which,  having  fallen 
two  hundred  and  sev^enty  feet  between  the  Long  Sault  and 
Montreal,  the  St.  Lawrence  runs  to  the  sea  without  farther 
obstruction,  as  calmly  as  our  English  Thames.  Ere  sunset 
the  city  of  Montreal,  and  the  solid  piers  and  masonry  of  the 
Tubular  Bridge,  were  in  sight,  and  before  dark  I  was  safe 
again,  amid  the  kindly  society  and  cheerful  hospitalities  of 
Bosemount. 


iJ-f-         >'r 


CHAPTER  XLIV. 

EMIGRATION. 


v 


Montreal,  May,  1858. 
'  The  population  of  Canada  in  1858  is  considerably  greater 
than  that  to  which  the  ancient  and  illustrious  kingdom  of 
Scotland  had  attained  in  the  first  year  of  the  present  century, 
long  ere  its  name  and  fame  in  literature,  science,  art,  and 
arms,  had  become  famous  over  the  civilized  world.  It  is 
about  as  great  as  that  of  England  was  when  William  the 
Conqueror  dispossessed  Harold  of  his  throne,  and  little  in- 
ferior to  that  of  Norman  England  when  Henry  V.  gained  the 
victory  at  Agincourt,  and  sowed  the  seeds  of  that  animosity 
between  Englishmen  and  Frenchmen  which  have  unfortunate- 
ly germinated  since  that  day  into  results  which  philanthropists 
may  deplore,  but  of  which  British  and  French  statesmen  are 
bound  to  take  cognizance,  if  they  would  govern  their  countiy- 
men  either  in  war  or  in  peace.  It  is  not  because  its  popula- 
tion is  so  small,  but  because  its  territory  is  so  great,  and  its 
resources  so  little  known,  that  Canada  is  considered  in  its  in- 
fancy, and  because  it  is  conterminous  with  a  republic  so  much 
older,  more  developed,  and  more  populous  than  itself.  Stretch- 
ing westward  from  the  Gulf  of  St.Lawrence  along  the  northern 
margin  of  the  great  chain  of  lakes,  Canada — even  if  no  addi- 
tional territories  in  the  fertile  rigions  of  the  Bed  Biver  and 


EMIGRATION. 


897 


50  great,  and  it8 


the  Saskatchewan  bo  included  hereafter  within  its  boundaries 
— has  room  enough  for  a  pupulatioa  as  great  as  that  of  Franco 
or  Germany,  and  only  requires  men  and  time  to  rank  among 
the  greatest  powers  of  the  earth.  Its  water  communication 
alone  would  point  it  out  as  a  country  destined  in  no  veiy 
distant  llercaflcr  to  play  a  great  part  in  the  drama  of  civiliza- 
tion. An  ordinarily  intelligent  study  of  the  map  is  sufficient 
to  show  that  the  lino  of  the  southern  Canadian  frontier,  along 
the  shores  of  Ontario,  Erie,  Huron,  Michigan,  and  Superior, 
will  become  the  highway  of  the  trade  and  travel  of  Europe  to 
the  Pacific  Ocean,  if  what  is  called  the  "  lay"  of  the  country 
bo  more  favorable  for  the  development  of  railway  communica- 
tion than  the  regions  of  Central  North  America  to  the  south 
of  the  lakes.  And  this  it  appears  to  bo  from  the  reports  of  all 
the  scientific  men  who,  either  in  official  or  non-official  capaci- 
ties, have  explored  the  land.  A  great  railway  will  inevitably 
unite  the  Atlantic  and  the  Pacific  Ocean  through  liritish  ter- 
ritory, although  it  is  possible  that  a  southern  line  may  also  be 
constructed  across  the  centre  of  the  United  States.  But  the 
Canadian  and  British  lino  will  have  the  advantage,  for  the 
solid  and  substantial  reasons  that  the  engineering  difficulties 
are  not  nearly  so  many  or  so  costly ;  that  the  country  lies  on 
a  much  lower  level,  and  that  there  is  no  high  plateau  of  ut- 
terly barren  ground,  twelve  hundred  miles  in  extent,  to  be 
traversed  in  the  centre  of  the  line.  Between  the  Canadas, 
the  Bed  River  settlements,  and  the  great  districts  of  the  Sas- 
katchewan, and  the  Fraser  River,  British  Columbia,  and  Van- 
couver, there  will  be  but  the  territory  at  the  head  of  Lake 
Superior,  which  will  not  ultimately  repay,  by  its  own  traffic, 
the  expenses  of  its  construction ;  while  the  Atlantic  and  Pa- 
cific line,  through  the  centre  of  the  United  States,  across  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  will  have  to  traverse  a  bleak  and  howling 
wilderness,  never  to  be  settled  at  any  time,  because  quite  in- 
capable of  cultivation,  and  extending  for  more  than  twelve 
hundred  miles. 

When  the  outlying  British  provinces  of  Nova  Scotia,  New 
Brunswick,  and  Cape  Breton  are  connected  by  rail  with  each 
other  and  with  the  Canadas,  and  when  the  Grand  Trunk 


SI;! 


i  ';r 


898 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


m 


r. 


: 


Uailway  shall  bo  linked  with  other  grand  trunk  lines  as  great 
and  useful  as  itself,  Hritish  America  will  become  strong  enough 
to  rival  the  United  States  both  in  commerce  and  in  politics. 
There  hns  lately  been  con!)idurabl()  talk,  if  not  agitation,  in 
Canada  in  fuvor  of  a  fcderution  of  the  North  American  Col- 
onies, which,  in  consequence  of  the  want  of  railway  communi- 
cation, are  very  little  known  to  each  other.  But  such  a  fed- 
eration is  not  likely  to  take  place  while  they  remain  depend- 
encies of  the  British  crown.  Their  ignoranc-;  ot  each  other 
leads  to  jealousies  sufficiently  great  to  ro.tiUv  thi'\r  union  a 
difficult  achievement,  if  left  to  thems<*i\LS  lo  ettc«'t;  and  as 
the  mother  country  has  nothing  to  gain,  L.  '  mi^ht  possibly 
have  something  to  lose  by  cncour  i;.:*.  g  the  idea,  there  is  no 
likelihood  that  it  will  make  much  progress  or  meet  with  ade- 
quate encouragement  on  either  side  of  the  Atlantic.  If,  fram 
any  circumstances  in  their  own  or  British  history,  these  noble 
colonies  should  hereafter  declare  themselves  independent,  their 
federation  for  mutual  protection  would  either  precede  that 
event,  or  immediately  follow  it  as  a  matter  of  course.  But, 
under  existing  circumstances,  the  best  federation  which  they 
cm  establish  is  the  federation  of  railways  and  the  union  of 
interests,  of  which  commerco  is  the  best  and  readiest  instru- 
ment. 

The  passion  or  instinct  of  loyalty  is  so  strong  in  Canada, 
that  even  the  recoil  of  the  great  rebellion  of  1839  has  in- 
creased the  fervor  of  the  sentiment  instead  of  diminishing  it, 
as  it  might  have  done.  Both  Upper  and  Lower  Canada  once 
possessed  a  kind  of  aristocracy  composed  of  what  are  called 
the  "  U.  E.  Loyalists,"  or  "  United  Empire  Loyalists ;"  per- 
sons who  disapproved  of  the  war  waged  n^^ainst  the  mother 
country  by  Wa-  iii'^^ioi.  who,  v  ;*e  they  deplored  the  ill- 
judged  proceedings  of  King  George  III.  and  his  ministers,  held 
that  nothing  could  justify  rebellion,  and  fled  across*  the  St. 
Lawrence  to  avoid  staining  their  consciences  with  an  opposi- 
tion which  they  stigmatized  as  treason.  Loyalty  a  Voutrance 
was  their  motto,  as  it  was  that  of  the  Cavaliers  of  England  in 
the  days  of  Oliver  Cromwell.  This  feeling  survives  in  their 
descendants.     The  very  rebels  pardoned  by  the  British  gov- 


A. 

I  lines  M  great 
!  Strong  enough 
uid  in  politics, 
ot  agitation,  in 
American  Col- 
Iway  communi- 
But  such  a  fed- 
rcmain  depcnd- 
.)  ot  each  other 
r  thoir  union  a 
)  etfe«'t;  and  as 

might  possibly 
idea,  there  is  no 
•  meet  with  ade- 
lantic.     If,  from 
itory,  these  noble 
idcpcndent,  their 
lier  precede  that 
of  course.     But, 
ation  which  they 
,nd  the  union  of 

readiest  instru- 

Irong  in  Canada, 
[of  1839  has  in- 
►f  diminishing  it, 
rer  Canada  once 
what  are  called 
Loyalists;"  per- 
[ainst  the  mother 
leplored  the  ill- 
ds  ministers,  held 
id  across*  the  St. 
with  an  opposi- 
/alty  a  Voutrance 
jrs  of  England  in 
Isurvives  in  their 
the  British  gov- 


KMIORATION. 


899 


ernment  after  tlw  events  of  1839  hiiv«>  )K><->omc  tis  truly  loyal 
and  as  fervent  in  the  exprcst«ioii  <>t  their  atUtchmcnt  to  the 
crown  ot'Oreut  Britain  aM  the  nio^t  zeakmN  living  represent- 
atives of  the  U.  K.  lA)yalists  of  uld.     TW  change  in  the  pop- 
ular luiiiiig  is  perfectly  nalural.     Throtiglmut  the  whole  of 
those  unhappy  didpu I '^H,  which  had  wuU-nigh  cost  (ireat  Brit- 
ain licr  most  vtiluuble  colony,  the  go\i'ninicnf     "4  home,  sup- 
ported by  the  people,  acted  with  enliglitenc<l        1  fur-'*eeing 
generosity,  forbore  to  exuH;,)erate  gricvanci  m  li\      i-orcilious- 
ncss  or  neglect  on  the  oiie  side,  or  by  vindiN'tivoi)-  -^h  on  the 
other,  admitted  to  the  fullest  extent  the  righ    <>f  ti     Cana- 
dians to  self-government,  and  by  a  scries  of  trul;    iber:    meas- 
ures prcpai'ed  the  way  for  that  democratic  trecdt    »  whi*  li  the 
Canadians  enjoy,  aiid  which  could  not  b\  any  p^^Mbi,    v  be 
theirs  if  their  institutions  wero  identified  witii  Mi«i6>    oi    iieir 
brethren  on  the  other  si  ^0  of  the  I^kcs,  or  if  the        td,  like 
them,  to  elect  a  President  every  four  years.    Caiui'       •\j(»^  s  a 
far  greater  amount  of  lib^Tty  than  any  nation  ou  l.     globe, 
unless  Great  Britain  be  an  exception  ;  and  if  it  be,  tl-    Cana- 
dians have  far  less  to  pay  iui*  their  freedom  than  their       thrcn 
in  the  Old  Country.      The  national  debt  of  Grcai        it«*in 
touches  them  not.    They  arc  defended  by  British  soldi       and 
British  ships  of  war  without  cost.    The  standard  of  Er*.  and, 
which  prevents  all  nations  from  insulting  them,  costs     lem 
nothing  to  uplift.     They  have  but  to  pay  their  own  way,  i*nd 
to  be  happy  in  an  allegiance  nominal  in  its  burden,  but  real  v^i 
the  protection  which  it  insures.     The  Canadians  are  fully  im- 
pressed with  the  value  of  these  advantages,  and  arc  not  likely 
to  imperil  them  either  by  a  self- -sacrificing  annexation  to  tho 
United  States,  or  by  a  costly  independence  of  Great  Britain, 
which  would  entail  upon  them  ail  the  expenses  of  a  nation 
that  had  to  provide  for  its  own  security  against  the  world,  and 
especially  against  its  nearest  neighbor. 

As  already  observed,  tho  first  want  of  Upper  Canada — for 
Lower  Canada  is  well  peopled — is  men ;  men  who  will  push 
out  into  the  wilderness,  fell  and  clear  the  forest,  found  vil- 
lages, towns,  and  cities,  and  run  the  race  that  is  run  by  their 
kindred  in  the  more  popular  emigration  fields  of  tho  ''Great 


400 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


3"   I. 


>       ti 


West"  of  the  United  States.  Men  of  the  right  sort  are,  and 
will  continue  to  be,  the  wants  of  Canada,  and  of  the  colonies 
planted,  or  to  be  planted,  between  the  present  western  limits 
and  the  shores  of  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

But  who  are  the  men  of  the  right  sort  *?  Let  no  reader  of 
these  pages  be  deceived.  It  is  but  one  class  of  men  whose 
presence  will  be  acceptable  to  the  Canadians  or  advantageous 
to  themselves.  Loiterers  about  cities — fellows  who  herd  in 
the  back  slums,  and  think  the  life  of  the  backwoodsman  too 
hard  for  their  dainty  fingers,  or  for  their  notions  of  what  is 
right  and  proper,  should  remain  in  Europe,  and  not  presume, 
with  their  sickly  education,  to  venture  into  the  free,  fresh  air 
and  rough  work  of  the  wilderness. 

Canada  requires,  and  will  require,  a  large  stream  of  immi- 
gration ;  and  yet  immigrants  are  hourly  arriving  who  are  not 
wanted,  and  Montreal,  Toronto,  Hamilton,  and  Quebec  swarm 
with  young  and  middle-aged  men,  who  find  it  quite  as  difficult 
to  "  get  on"  as  they  evev  could  have  done  in  Great  Britain. 
Who,  then,  are  the  classes  that  should  emigi*ate  to  Canada? 
This  is  a  question  that  should  be  well  and  thoroughly  debated 
by  all  who,  not  having  elbow-room  at  home,  imagine  that  they 
must,  of  necessity,  have  greater  scope  in  America.  Those 
who  ought  not  to  emigrate  may  be  designated  in  a  few  words 
as  those  who  expect  to  live  by  their  brains — by  trade,  com- 
merce, or  professions  of  any  kind.  Neither  clerks  nor  shop- 
men, nor  men  with  ready  pens  or  readier  tongues,  should  try 
their  fortunes  in  Canada.  Such  men  are  always  to  be  had  in 
young  communities  in  greater  numbers  than  young  communi- 
ties require,  and  are  useless  in  a  country  where  rough  work  is 
to  be  done,  and  where  one  good  blacksmith,  stone-mason,  or 
plowman  is  worth  half  a  dozen  clerks  and  a  score  of  barrister.^. 
The  strong  men  who  inherit  nothing  from  their  forefathers  but 
their  brawny  limbs  and  their  good  health,  and  who,  by  the 
employment  of  their  physical  strength,  with  more  or  less  of 
skill  and  industry,  are  able  to  derive  their  subsistence  irom 
the  land — these  are  the  people  wanted.  The  classes  who,  by 
the  exercise  either  of  more  than  an  average  amount  of  talent, 
or  the  enjoyment  of  more  than  an  average  amount  of  social 


it  sort  are,  and 

of  the  colonies 

;  western  limits 

let  no  reader  of 
J  of  men  whose 
or  advantageous 
!\'S  who  herd  in 
ckwoodsman  too 
tions  of  what  is 
^nd  not  presume, 
the  free,  fresh  air 

stream  of  immi- 
ving  who  are  not 
nd  Quebec  swarm 
t  quite  as  difficult 
in  Great  Britain, 
gi-ate  to  Canada'? 
loroughly  debated 
imagine  that  they 
America.     Those 
ed  in  a  few  words 
-by  trade,  com- 
clerks  nor  shop- 
longues,  should  try 
ways  to  be  had  in 
young  communi- 
icre  rough  work  is 
,  stone-mason,  or 
Iscore  of  barristers, 
eir  forefathers  but 
and  who,  by  the 
[h  more  or  less  of 
subsistence  irom 
|he  classes  who,  by 
amount  of  talent, 
amount  of  social 


EMIGRATION. 


401 


advantages  derived  from  education,  desire  to  live  pleasantly, 
should  stay  at  home.  Their  existence  in  this  old  is  far  more 
comfortable  than  it  can  be  in  a  new  country,  which  desires 
them  not,  and  has  no  adequate  field  for  the  exercise  of  their 
abilities,  except  in  rare  instances,  which  are  speedily  taken 
advantage  of  by  people  on  the  spot. 

It  is  the  agriculturist  who  is  the  most  urgently  required ; 
the  class  that  in  the  British  Isles  is  the  most  hardly  used, 
whatever  Arcadian  poets  and  Belgravian  novelists  may  urge 
to  the  contrary.     Traditionally  and  poetically,  or  telescopic- 
ally  viewed,  we  are  told  that  in  England  the  cottages  of  this 
class  peep  out  from  the  verdure  of  the  land ;  that  the  roses 
blossom  at  their  doors ;  that  the  ivy  and  the  honeysuckle  clam- 
ber over  their  walls ;  that  the  swallow  builds  in  their  thatch  ; 
that  the  lark  and  the  nightingale,  the  blackbird  and  the  thrush, 
make  music  for  them  ;  that  the  honest  house-dog  watches  at 
their  gate ;  and  that  their  children  sport  beneath  the  lofty 
elms,  or  make  garlands  in  the  fields  of  the  butter-cups  and 
daisies.     They  are  said  to  be  the  wealth  and  the  boast  of  the 
nation.    Out  of  their  ranks,  as  we  are  told,  is  recruited  the  vig- 
or of  the  generations.     They  are  a  bold  and  independent  race. 
Honesty  is  their  stay.    Health  is  their  portion.    A  sufficiency 
is  their  reward.     All  this  is  very  fine,  but,  unluckily,  it  is  not 
true.     Actually  or  microscopically  considered,  what  are  the 
peasantry  of  England  ?    Enter  one  of  their  cottages  and  look 
around,  and  all  the  glory  and  poetry  disappear.     The  peasant 
is  found  to  be  a  man  of  many  sorrows.    He  toils  for  an  insuf- 
ficiency.   He  has  not  wherewithal  to  cover  himself  in  comfort 
from  the  inclemency  of  the  weather.     His  cottage  is  ill  fur- 
nished and  dirty,  and  has  no  convenient  separation  of  apart- 
ments for  the  decencies  of  a  family.    A  dung-heap  and  a  cess- 
pool fester  at  his  door.    His  intellectual  life  is  as  degraded  as 
his  physical.     If  he  reads  at  all,  which  is  very  doubtful,  he 
has  read  the  Bible,  but  whether  with  understanding  or  with- 
out, it  is  hard  to  sfy.     He  goes  to  church  because  his  fathers 
went  before  him,  and  because  men  better  dressed  than  himself 
have  set  him  the  example,  and  urged  upon  him  the  duty  of 
going.     He  is  told  when  he  gets  there  that  he  is  a  miserable 


w: 


^t'Ai 


M. 


402 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


wretch ;  that,  by  the  inscrutable  decrees  of  Providence,  the 
many  must  ever  be  the  hewers  of  wood  and  the  drawers  of 
water,  and  that  he  is  born  into  that  state,  and  must  live  in  it. 
He  is  warned  to  respect  those  above  him,  and  to  be  contented 
with  his  lot.  If  he  be  a  true  man,  he  learns,  after  his  own 
humble  and  dejected  fashion,  that  there  may  be  some  chance 
for  him  in  heaven  if  not  on  earth.  If  he  be  not  a  true  man, 
if  he  have  no  spiritual  life  in  him,  if  he  have  no  hope  for  the 
future,  he  becomes  reckless  and  brutal,  seeking  for  animal  en- 
joyment wherever  he  can  find  it,  and  seizing  eagerly  the  coarse 
pleasures  and  excitements  of  the  passing  day,  lest  death  and 
annihilation  should  come  upon  him  before  he  has  enjoyed  any 
thing  at  the  expense  of  any  body.  His  wife  is  prematurely 
old  with  bearing  many  children  and  many  woes.  She  labors 
hard  and  has  no  rest.  Her  children  toil  before  their  bones  have 
acquired  consistency ;  and  the  combined  labor  of  the  family, 
provided  they  could  procure  work  for  the  whole  year,  might 
maintain  them  in  coarse  food  indiiferently  well,  and  supply 
them  indifferently  well  with  coarse  raiment.  But  they  can 
not  procure  work  all  the  year  round,  and  the  moderate  suffi- 
ciency of  six  months  so  dearly  bought  is  painfully  beaten  and 
hammered  out  into  an  insufficiency  for  twelve. 

When  decrepitude  or  old  age — and  the  first  often  precedes 
the  second — comes  upon  the  peasant  and  his  wife,  they  have 
no  resource  but  the  poor  rate.  They  are  a  broken-spirited 
and  utterly  worn-down  couple,  and  become  a  burden  to  the 
community.  If  a  young,  vigorous  man  of  this  class  wished 
to  possess  for  himself  a  small  portion  of  his  mother  earth,  he 
must  expatriate  himself.  At  home,  though  no  serf  de  jure,  he 
is  a  serf  de  facto.  The  land  is  so  valuable  as  to  shut  utterly 
against  him  the  slightest  chance  of  his  ever  obtaining  one  yard 
of  it  to  call  his  own.  There  are  many  thousands  of  such  peo- 
ple in  England,  to  whom  the  Canadas  would  offer  a  career  of 
industry,  usefulness,  and  prosperity.  Let  them  depart,  and 
benefit  themselves,  the  country  which  thejj  quit,  and  that  to 
which  they  go.  And  not  only  the  Englishman  of  this  class, 
but  the  Scotchman  and  the  Irishman  will  be  welcome  to  Can- 
ada, if  they  can  fell  the  forest,  plow  the  land,  shoe  a  horse  or 


EMIGRATION. 


403 


a  man,  or  do  any  kind  of  hard-hand'work,  such  as  is  required 
in  the  wilderness.  As  much  trash  has  been  spoken  of  the 
Scottish  as  of  the  English  peasant.  It  is  said  that,  though  he 
live  m  a  cold  and  moist,  it  is  by  no  means  an  unhealthy  cli- 
mate. We  are  told  that  the  grandeur  and  the  glories  of  na- 
ture surround  him ;  that  the  everlasting  hills  rear  their  mag- 
nificent peaks  on  his  honzon ;  that  fresh-water  lakes  of  ex- 
treme beauty  are  imbedded  among  his  hills,  and  that  salt-water 
lochs  wind  far  into  the  country  from  the  sea,  presenting  not 
only  the  sublimities  and  splendor  of  scenery  to  his  eyes,  but 
wealth  for  his  wants,  if  he  will  but  labor  in  search  of  it.  We 
are  told,  moreover,  that,  although  the  hills  are  bleak  and  bare, 
the  glens  and  straths  are  green  and  capable  of  cultivation. 
Even  if  the  country  be  deficient  in  coal  and  wood,  nature  is 
so  bountiful  that  the  peasant  need  not  perish  from  the  inclem- 
ency of  the  climate,  inasmuch  as  great  tracts  of  moorland  arc 
spread  on  every  side,  affording  him  an  inexhaustible  supply  of 
fuel.  But  how  does  the  so-called  fortunate  peasant  live  ?  What 
has  civilization  done  for  him  ?  What  has  he  done  for  himself? 
The  answer  should  be,  that  he  has  done  nothing  for  himself; 
that  he  is  but  half  civilized  ;  that  he  is  worse  off  than  his  fore- 
fathers ;  that  he  lives  in  a  miserable  wigwam  built  of  unshape- 
ly stones  gathered  from  the  debris  of  the  mountains,  or  lying 
loose  on  the  uncultivated  soil ;  that  the  interstices  between 
them  are  rudely  plastered  with  mud ;  that  he  has  very  often 
no  windows  to  his  hut,  and  that,  if  there  be  a  window,  a  piece 
of  paper  commonly  serves  the  purpose  of  a  pane  of  glass. 
When  there  is  a  chimney — a  somewhat  rare  case — an  old  tub 
without  top  or  bottom,  stuck  amid  the  rotten  heather  of  the 
roof,  answers  for  a  chimney-pot.  The  door  is  low,  and  he  has 
to  stoop  before  he  can  enter  it.  He  gathers  his  fuel  from  the 
peat  moss,  a  privilege  accorded  to  him  for  the  labor  of  a  cer- 
tain number  of  days  upon  the  farm  of  which  the  moorland 
forms  a  portion.  The  smoke  from  this  peat-fire  fills  his  wig- 
wam and  exudes  from  the  door.  The  floor  is  of  earth,  and 
damp  ;  and  the  cow  which  he  keeps  shares  the  shelter  of  his 
own  roof.  He  has  a  little  patch  of  ground,  reclaimed  perhaps 
from  the  moorland,  for  which  he  pays  a  considerable  rent  in 


404 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AJIERICA. 


labor,  if  not  in  money,  and  on  this  patch  of  ground  he  grows 
potatoes.  He  has  little  or  no  skill  in  agriculture  beyond  the 
skill  necessary  to  plant  his  potatoes,  but  docs  as  he  is  bid  in  a 
clumsy  way  when  he  works  for  other  people.  Oatmeal  por- 
ridge, on  which  his  forefathers  grew  strong,  is  a  rare  luxury 
with  him.  The  easily-raised  and  less  nutritious  potato  is 
much  cheaper,  and  supplies  its  place.  If  his  landlord,  or  his 
landlord's  factor,  will  permit  him,  he  marries  upon  his  pota- 
toes. If  the  landlord  does  not  wish  that  he  should  marry,  for 
fear  of  an  increase  of  the  population,  inconvenient  always  to 
landlords  who  have  not  the  skill,  the  enterprise,  or  the  capital 
to  employ  them,  he  either  dispenses  with  the  ceremonial  part 
of  the  business,  or  emigrates  to  Glasgow  or  some  other  great 
town,  and  trusts  to  Providence  to  live  Bomehow  and  some- 
where. 

If  he  remains  on  his  potato-patch,  and  marries  by  consent, 
he  has  a  large  family ;  for,  by  a  provision  of  nature,  now  be- 
ginning to  be  understood  by  political  economists,  each  pair  of 
living  beings  threatened  with  extinction  by  habitual  insuffi- 
ciency of  nourishment  becomes  prolific  in  proportion  to  the 
imminency  of  the  danger.*  He  is  idle  and  dirty  in  his  habits, 
and  his  children  are  like  him.  If  he  can  now  and  then  get  a 
little  oatmeal-cake  and  a  herring  in  addition  to  his  potatoes, 
a  little  milk  for  his  children,  a  pinch  of  snuff  now  and  then, 
and  much  fiery  whisky  for  himself,  he  envies  no  man  in  exist- 
ence, except,  perhaps,  the  laird  and  the  minister.  All  around 
his  wigwam  are  large  tracts  of  country  capable  of  cultivation, 
if  capable  people  were  allowed  to  undertake  the  task  of  clear- 
ing, draining,  and  manuring  it,  and  if  the  owners  of  these 
tracts  had  the  energy  and  the  capital  to  exercise  the  duties  of 
proprietorship.  Undrained  and  untillcd,  these  lands,  if  not 
valuable  for  raising  corn  and  men,  are  admirable  for  raising 
sheep  and  preserving  grouse.  There  is  little  or  no  expendi- 
ture of  capital  necessary  for  this  purpose  on  the  part  of  land- 
lords. The  hill-sides  afford  excellent  pasturage ;  and  as  sheep 
and  black  cattle  can  be  herded  in  such  a  country  at  a  small 
expanse  of  men  and  money,  the  land  is  let  out  in  large  farms 
*  See  Mr.  Doubleday's  Theory. 


ICA. 

ground  he  grows 
ilture  beyond  the 
;  as  he  is  bid  in  a 
5,     Oatmeal  per- 
is a  rare  luxury 
tritious  potato  is 
s  landlord,  or  his 
es  upon  his  pota- 
should  marry,  for 
ivenient  always  to 
rise,  or  the  capital 
le  ceremonial  part 
■  some  other  great 
•meAou;  and  some- 

oarries  by  consent, 
of  nature,  now  be- 
mists,  each  pair  of 
by  habitual  insuffi- 
i  proportion  to  the 
dirty  in  his  habits, 
ow  and  then  get  a 
on  to  his  potatoes, 
uff  now  and  then, 
is  no  man  in  exist- 
ister.     All  around 
.able  of  cultivation, 
e  the  task  of  clear- 
e  owners  of  these 
lercise  the  duties  of 
these  lands,  if  not 
mirable  for  raising 
ttle  or  no  expendi- 
•n  the  part  of  land- 
rage;  and  as  sheep 
country  at  a  small 
out  in  large  farms 
ry. 


EMIGRATION. 


405 


for  this  purpose,  and  at  very  heavy  rentals.  Additional 
rentals  are  procured  for  the  right  of  grouse-shooting.  None 
of  the  mutton,  none  of  the  beef,  none  of  the  grouse  or  other 
game,  finds  its  way  to  the  larder  of  the  peasant,  unless  he 
steals  it — which  he  sometimes  dues,  taking  his  chance  of  the 
penalty.  When  peasants  grow  too  numerous  for  a  sheep  and 
cattle  feeding  country,  for  the  confines  of  a  deer-forest,  or  for 
the  due  cultivation  of  that  more  valuable  two-legged  animal, 
the  grouse,  the  less  valuable  two-legged  animal,  man,  is  "clopr- 
ed  out."  The  superabundant  and  useless  people  are  warned 
to  depart  within  a  certain  period.  If  they  neglect  the  warn- 
ing, their  wigwams  are  pulled  down  over  their  heads,  and 
they  are  left  to  the  moorland  and  the  hill-side,  to  enjoy  an 
equality  of  shelter  with  the  moor-fowl  or  the  sheep.  If  any 
of  these  people  have  been  provident  or  penurious  enough  to 
scrape  a  few  pounds  together,  or  if  they  have  any  remote 
cousins  settled  in  the  New  "World  who  have  lent  them  a  little 
money  for  the  purpose,  they  emigrate  to  the  United  States,  or 
perhaps  to  Australia — any  where  where  a  man  has  a  likeli- 
hood of  being  considered  a  man,  and  of  living  his  life  without 
oppression.  These  are  the  men  that  ought  to  go  to  Canada ; 
these  are  the  men  that  Canada  requires;  and  these  are  the 
men  who,  if  they  go  there,  will  increase  and  multiply,  and  re- 
plenish the  earth. 

The  Irish  Celtic  peasant,  when  he  is  at  home,  leads  much 
the  same  kind  of  life,  except  that  he  is  not  quite  so  closely  el- 
bowed as  the  Highlander  is  by  the  grouse  and  the  deer.  He 
is  not  the  patient  ass  that  browses  upon  the  thistle,  and  takes 
insults  from  all  comers.  Though  he,  too,  lives  in  a  wigwam, 
and  shares  it  with  a  pig,  the  priest  comforts  him  when  no  one 
else  will  take  the  trouble.  When  a  war  breaks  out  among 
the  nations,  this  class  of  men,  partly  from  the  misery  of  their 
daily  fare  and  the  wretchedness  of  their  daily  attire,  partly 
from  the  ignorance  which  accompanies  extreme  poverty,  and 
partly  from  a  barbarian  love  of  finery,  press  or  are  pressed 
into  the  legions  of  battle,  and  die  in  scarlet  coats  and  feath- 
ered caps  for  the  supposed  good  of  their  country.  If  war  does 
not  require  him,  and  he  has  neither  energy  to  emigrate  nor 


J 

'4  ; 


406 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


,f  y] 


if 


^:  n 


!Ei 


A, 


friends  to  supply  him  with  the  means  of  paying  his  passage 
across  the  Atlantic,  he  comes  over  to  England  in  the  harvest- 
ing-time, and  gains  a  few  pounds  to  help  him  through  the 
winter.  Some  of  his  good  friends,  who  wish  to  try  experi- 
ments at  his  expense,  settle  him  upon  the  coast,  and  lend  hini 
a  boat  and  buy  him  nets,  and  tell  him  to  fish  in  the  sea,  and 
not  allow  the  Danes  and  Norwegians  to  come  down  hundreds 
of  miles,  and  take  away  the  wealth  that  the  great  deep  affords. 
No  doubt  the  man  ought  to  fish,  but  he  does  not.  The  change 
is  disagreeable  to  the  Celt.  He  does  not  like  continuous  hard 
work.  A  potato-diet  has  weakened  his  energies.  He  has  no 
fancy  for  the  sea.  He  loves  the  old  ways.  Could  he  be  al- 
lowed to  fish  in  the  rivers,  he  would  be  willing  enough ;  but 
fresh-water  fish  are  the  property  of  the  landlord,  reserved  for 
aristocratic,  and  not  plebeian  sport  and  profit.  Salt  sea  fish* 
ing  is  another  matter.  There  is  no  landlord  right  upon  tha 
ocean.  The  great  deep  is  free.  There  is  no  possibility  of  de- 
riving any  rents  from  the  billows ;  but,  free  as  it  is,  the  peas- 
ant from  the  interior  can  make  no  use  of  it.  He  not  only  d&^ 
tests  sea  work,  but  has  no  skill  in  the  management  of  boats 
or  nets.  He  has,  in  fact,  no  liking  for  or  knowledge  of  th^ 
business  in  any  shape  or  degree.  The  strange  result  is  that, 
while  on  one  side  of  him  there  is  a  poor  barren  soil,  with 
owners  who  ask  a  large  rent,  the  Celtic  Irishman  would  rath- 
er pay  that  rent  and  draw  a  small  subsistence  for  himself  in 
potatoes  out  of  it  than  betake  himself  to  the  abundant  sea  on 
the  other  side,  which  has  no  owners,  for  which  there  is  no 
rent  to  pay,  and  from  which  he  might  draw  not  subsistence 
merely,  but  wealth  for  himself  and  for  his  country.  Though 
we  bring  the  peasant  to  the  sea-shore,  we  can  not  make  him 
fish.  He  prefers  to  fold  his  arms  in  his  potato-ground,  and 
trusts  in  Providence  for  the  better  days  which  never  come  to 
those  who  do  not  make  them.  His  children  swarm  half  naked 
about  him,  and  when  the  potatoes  fail,  get  a  miserable  sub- 
sistence by  gathering  limpets  from  the  rocks,  or  plucking  sea- 
weed to  boil  into  a  jelly. 

While  such  men  as  these  are  young,  the  British  possessions 
in  America  could  absorb  any  number  of  them — to  dig  and 


[CA. 

ying  his  passage 
d  in  the  harvest- 
lim  through  the 
h  to  try  experi- 
ist,  and  lend  hin> 
h  in  the  sea,  and 
e  down  hundreds 
;reat  deep  affords, 
aot.     The  change 
c  continuous  hard 
'gies.     He  has  no 
Could  he  be  al- 
iling  enough ;  but 
ilord,  reserved  for 
fit.     Salt  sea  fish- 
rd  right  upon  the 
0  possibility  of  de- 
5  as  it  is,  the  peas- 
He  not  only  d&^ 
nagement  of  boats 
knowledge  of  tht 
inge  result  is  that. 
barren  soil,  with 
;hman  would  rath- 
■nce  for  himself  in 
le  abundant  sea  on 
'hich  there  is  no 
iw  not  subsistence 
iountry.     Though 
;an  not  make  him 
lotato-ground,  and 
lich  never  come  to 
swarm  half  naked 
a  miserable  sub- 
s,  or  plucking  sea- 

Jritish  possessions 
I  them — to  dig  and 


HOME  AGAIN. 


407 


delve,  to  cut  down  the  forest,  make  canals  and  railways,  and 
do  the  work  for  which  they  are  eminently  qualiticd.  In  short, 
it  is  the  peasantry  of  the  British  Isles  who  are  wanted  in 
Canada,  not  clerks,  shopmen,  and  penmen ;  and,  until  the 
peasantry  go  in  larger  numbers  than  they  do  at  present,  Can- 
ada, like  the  daughter  of  the  horse-leech,  will  continue  to  cry, 
"  Give !  give  !"  and  will  remain  but  half  or  a  quarter  devel- 
oped, even  in  its  oldest  regions. 


CHAPTER  XLV. 


HOME   AGAIN. 


It  might  seem  ungracious  and  ungrateful,  after  having  been 
received  in  the  United  States  and  in  Canada,  at  every  town 
and  city  in  which  I  sojourned,  with  a  degree  of  kindness  as 
great  as  it  was  unexpected,  to  conclude  this  record  of  my  tour 
without  saying  one  word  in  acknowledgment  of  the  popular 
favor  that  was  showered  upon  me.  Without  parading  names, 
detailing  private  conversations,  or  indulging  in  personal  gos- 
sip, I  may  be  permitted,  in  a  form  somewhat  less  evanescent 
than  a  speech  after  dinner,  that  perishes  with  the  newspaper 
of  the  following  morning,  even  if  it  find  its  way  to  such  tran- 
sient notoriety,  to  avow  my  grateful  sense  of  the  hospitality 
of  which  I  was  the  object,  and  of  the  good-will  toward  the 
Old  Country  expressed  toward  me,  as  happening  to  recall  its 
memories  to  the  minds  of  those  with  whom  I  was  brought 
into  personal  and  public  intercourse.  The  following  quota- 
tion from  the  Toronto  Globe  will,  better  than  any  words  of  my 
own,  tell  all  that  is  necessary  to  be  told  of  the  kindness  of 
which  I  was  the  object,  and  which  I  should  be  worse  than 
ungrateful  were  I  ever  to  forget : 

"  Charles  Mackay  in  Canada. — The  reception  given  by 
the  Canadians  to  this  distinguished  poet  has  been  cordial  in 
the  extreme.  No  English  traveler  or  literary  man  who  has 
hitherto  visited  this  country  has  been  welcomed  with  a  tithe 
of  the  enthusiasm  which  has  greeted  the  popular  songster  in 


11 


408 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY  IN  AMERICA. 


every  city  in  Canada  in  which  he  has  set  foot.  At  Montreal, 
after  his  lecture  in  the  Bonsecour  Market  Hall  on  "  Poetry 
and  Song,"  which  was  attended  by  upward  of  1600  persons, 
he  was  entertained  at  a  public  supper  at  the  Doneganu  Hotel. 
The  band  of  the  73d  regiment,  under  the  leadership  of  Mr. 
Prince,  was  in  attendance  during  the  evening,  and  honored 
the  poet  with  a  serenade,  appropriately  playing  some  of  Im 
own  melodies.  At  Toronto,  where  he  has  lectured  under  the 
auspices  of  the  Mechanics'  Institute,  he  has  been  honored  by 
the  attencVmce  of  the  largest  audiences  ever  known  to  have 
gathered  in  the  city  to  listen  to  a  lecture.  The  St.  Lawrence 
Hall  was  densely  crowded  on  both  occasions  ;  many  persons 
were  unable  to  obtain  even  standing  room.  At  Hamilton, 
where  he  lectured  twice,  the  same  enthusiasm  prevailed,  and 
at  the  close  of  the  second  lecture  he  was  invited  to  a  public 
entertainment  at  the  Anglo-American  Hotel,  which  was  at- 
tended by  many  of  the  notabilities  and  leading  merchants  of 
the  city.  At  London,  where  the  corporation  granted  the 
gratuitous  use  of  the  City  Hall  for  the  occasion,  an  audience 
of  1000  persons  was  present,  and,  as  in  other  cities,  a  publlo 
supper  was  hastily  organized,  at  which  the  healths  went  round 
until  the  small  hours  of  the  morn,  and  libations  were  drunk 
full  of  loyalty  toward  the  Old  Country  and  of  attachment  to 
the  new.  At  Quebec,  after  the  lecture,  there  was  a  public 
supper ;  and  at  Ottawa  the  poet  was  publicly  serenaded  in 
the  beautiful  grounds  of  the  Hon.  Mrs.  Mackay,  of  Rideau 
Hall.  Mr.  Mackay  will,  no  doubt,  take  home  the  most  favor* 
able  impressions  of  Canada.  He  expresses  himself  deeply 
sensible  of  the  kindness  shown  to  him  by  its  warm-hearted 
people.  Mr.  Mackay  was  entertained  at  supper  last  night  at 
the  Rossin  House,  and  he  leaves  us  this  morning  en  route  for 
England." 

Leaving  Canada  with  feelings  of  regret  that  I  had  not  seen 
more  of  it,  I  took  the  rail  at  Montreal  for  Boston,  and  engaged 
my  passage  home  in  the  steamship  Europa,  Captain  Lcitch, 
advertisea  to  sail  on  the  19th  of  May.  But  I  was  not  des- 
tined to  leave  America  without  receiving  a  farther  proof  of 


At  Montreal, 
all  on  "  Poetry 
f  1600  pernonB, 
)onegana  Hotel, 
adership  of  Mr. 
[ig,  and  honored 
ring  some  of  Win 
ctured  under  the 
been  honored  by 
r  known  to  have 
Che  St.  Lawrence 
8 ;  many  personB 
I.     At  Hamilton, 
sm  prevailed,  and 
nvited  to  a  public 
;el,  which  was  at- 
iing  merchants  of 
ation  granted  the 
lasion,  an  audience 
her  cities,  a  public 
lealths  went  round 
ations  were  drunk 
i  of  attachment  to 
here  was  a  public 
>licly  serenaded  in 
:ackay,  of  Kideau 
Ue  the  most  favor- 
Ises  himself  deeply 
its  warm-hearted 
lupper  last  night  at 
loming  en  route  for 


Ihat  I  had  not  seen 

joston,  and  engaged 

L,  Captain  Lcitch, 

But  I  was  not  dcB- 

[a  farther  proof  of 


HOME  AGAIN.  '  409 

kindn<^ss  and  esteem,  and  this  time  from  people  whose  names 
and  labors  are  alike  the  >perty  and  pride  of  all  who  speak 
the  English  language,  and  of  which  the  following  short  record 
appeared  in  the  Boston  newspapers  of  the  20th  of  May : 

"Mit.  Charles  Mackay. — This  gentleman  sailed  in  the 
steamer  Europa  yesterday  morning  from  this  city.  Quite  a 
crowd  of  his  personal  friends  assembled  to  take  farewells. 
He  carries  with  him  the  best  wishes  of  hosts  of  admirers, 
who  will  be  glad  to  see  him  again  on  this  side  the  Atlantic. 
A  parting  dinner  was  given  to  him  on  Tuesday  evening,  at 
which  were  present  some  of  the  most  distinguished  literati  of 
the  country.  Among  the  sentiments  drunk  with  the  heartiest 
enthusiasm  was  the  health  of  Alfred  Tennyson,  proposed  by 
Mr.  Longfellow — a  most  graceful  and  genial  recognition  of 
the  genius  of  the  author  of  "  In  Memoriani"  by  the  author  of 
"Evangeline."  The  company  on  the  occasion  included  Pro- 
fessors Longfellow,  Holmes,  Agassiz,  and  Lowell ;  his  Excel- 
lency N.  P.  Banks  (Governor  of  Massachusetts);  Josiah  Quin- 
cy,  Esq. ;  Josiah  Quincy,  Esq.,  jun.  ;  W.  H.  Prescott,  the  his- 
torian; Dr.  Howe,  of  the  Blind  Asylum  ;  Messrs.  Ticknor  and 
Fields,  the  eminent  publishers,  and  many  others  well  known 
to  fame.  Mr.  J.  G.  Whittier,  Theodore  Parker,  and  Mr.  K. 
W.  Emerson  were  unavoidably  absent." 

The  speeches  made  on  the  occasion  were  not  reported.  In 
lieu  of  a  speech,  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  known  to  fame  in 
both  hemispheres  as  the  "  Autocrat  of  the  Breakfast  Table," 
and  author  of  some  of  the  tenderest  as  well  as  some  of  the 
wittiest  poems  that  American  literature  has  produced,  read 
the  following  amid  much  applause : 

TO  CHARLES  MACKAY, 

ON  HIS  DEPARTURE  TOR  EUROPE. 

Brave  singer  of  the  coming  time, 
•    Sweet  minstrel  of  the  joyous  present, 
Crowned  with  the  noblest  wreath  of  rhyme, 
The  holly-leaf  of  Ayrshire's  peasant, 


410 


LIFE   AND   LIBERTY    IN   AMEUICA. 


br'i 


Jh. 


m 


Gootl-by !  Rood-by !     Otir  hcnrts  nnd  hands, 
Our  lips  in  honest  Saxon  iilirascs, 

Cr}',  God  1)0  with  liini  till  he  Htnud» 
His  foot  amid  his  Knglish  daisies. 

'Tin  hero  wo  part.     For  other  eyes 

Tho  busy  dcek,  the  (luttcriiig  streamer, 
Tho  dripping  arms  that  plunpc  and  rise, 

The  waves  in  fi)ani,  the  ship  in  tremor, 
Tho  kerehiefs  waving  from  the  pier, 

The  cloudy  pillar  gliding  o'er  him, 
The  deep  blue  desert,  lone  and  drear, 

With  heaven  above  and  home  before  him. 

His  home !     The  "Western  giant  smiles, 

And  twirls  the  spotty  globe  to  find  it ; 
♦'This  little  speck,  the  British  Isles? 

'Tis  but  II  freckle,  never  mind  it  I" 
He  laughs,  anu  all  his  prairies  roll, 

Each  gurgling  cataract  roars  and  chuckles. 
And  ridges,  stretched  from  jiole  to  i)olo. 

Heave  till  they  shake  their  iron  knuckles. 

Then  Honor,  with  his  front  austere, 

Turned  on  the  sneer  a  frown  defiant, 
And  Freedom  leaning  on  her  spear, 

T-aughed  louder  than  the  laughing  giant : 
*  Our  islet  is  a  world,"  she  said, 

"Where  glory  with  its  dust  has  blended. 
And  Britain  keeps  her  noble  dead 

Till  earth,  and  seas,  and  skies  arc  rendcd  I" 

Beneath  each  swinging  forest  bough 

Some  arm  as  stout  in  death  reposes ; 
From  wave-washed  foot  to  heaven-kissed  brow, 

Her  valor's  life-blood  runs  in  roses. 
Nay,  let  our  ocean-bosomed  West 

Write,  smiling,  in  her  florid  pages, 
*'One  half  her  soil  has  walked  the  rest 

In  poets,  heroes,  martyrs,  sages  1 

Hugged  in  the  clinging  billows'  clasp. 

From  seaweed  fringe  to  mountain  heather, 
The  British  oak,  with  rooted  grasp, 

Her  slender  handful  holds  together. 
With  cliffs  of  white  and  bowers  of  green, 

And  ocean  narrowing  to  caress  her. 
And  hills  and  threaded  streams  between — 

Our  little  Mother  Isle,  God  bless  her  I 


lOME  A<    UK.  41 1 

Tn  earth's  l)ro.i«l  temple,  Tvhi-re  w> 

Fanned  by  tlio  eastern  ^alcs  thi 
Wc  huUl  the  misHal  in  our  lianil, 

Brii;ht  witii  tlic  lines  our  Mother  (u  igbt  u.^. 
Where'er  its  blnzoncd  pnj^'c  betrays 

Tiic  glistening  liniis  of  gilded  fettcr<), 
Behold,  the  half-turned  leaf  displays 

Her  rubric  stained  in  crimson  letters. 

Enough.     To  speed  n  parting  friend, 

'Tis  vain  alike  to  speak  and  listen  ; 
Yet  stay — these  feeble  accents  blend 

Willi  rays  of  light  from  eyes  that  glisten. 
Good-by  !  once  more.     And  kindly  tell, 

In  words  of  peace,  the  Young  World's  story ; 
And  say,  besides,  we  love  too  well 

Our  Mother's  soil— our  Father's  glory. 

Among  otlicr  effusions  called  forth  by  the  occasion  was 
the  following : 

You've  seen  us  Yankees,  Mr.  Mackay, 
The  white,  the  red,  the  brown,  the  blackcy ; 
The  white,  they  say,  who  knows  no  color 
But  that  of  the  almighty  dollar ; 
The  red,  who  roves  as  free  as  nature, 
Could  give  play  to  the  gallant  creature  ; 
The  black,  who  laughs,  amid  his  fcttois, 
More  heart-free  than  his  free-born  betters  ; 
And  the  wan  hybrid,  half  his  mother 
And  half  his  father,  yet  a  brother  ; 
When  telling  in  the  little  island 
Of  sights  seen  here  in  flood  or  dry  land, 
Say,  white,  red,  brown,  black,  short,  or  tall, 
You  found  some  good  among  them  all. 

In  conclusion,  and  for  the  benefit  of  Americans,  and  espe- 
cially of  critics,  who  are  too  apt  to  be  oversensitive  upon  the 
Cosas  Americanas,  1  need  but  say  that  time  has  strengthened 
every  good  impression  which  I  formed  both  of  the  people  and 
of  the  country,  and  weakened  every  li.ifavorable  one ;  that, 
if  I  have  spoken  of  slavery  and  one  or  two  other  subjects  in  a 
manner  at  which  some  may  take  offense,  I  have  spoken  con- 
scientiously, and  that  I  could  not  do  my  own  heart  the  in- 
justice to  witness  slavery  without  raising  my  voice  against 
it-— not  to  blame  the  slaveholders,  but  to  condole  with  them 
on  the  burden  of  their  inheritance,  and  to  pray  for  the  day 


412 


LIFE  AND  LIBERTY   IN   AMEUICA. 


■■   ■'  ?*tt 


when  the  evil  thinj^  may  be  oitlicr  entirely  removed,  or  no  di- 
minished by  natural,  uidcd  by  logi.slalivc  causes,  a8  to  lead  to 
the  hope  that  one  or  two  generations  at  the  farthest  may  wit- 
ness its  extinction.  No  Englishman  can  travel  in  the  United 
States  without  seeing  on  every  side,  and  at  each  step  <»f  his 
progress,  the  proof  of  the  indomitable  energy  of  the  people; 
and  (if  he  will  not  judge  too  rashly  from  first  appearances  or 
from  random  expressions)  of  the  pride  which  they  feel  in  their 
Anglo-Saxon  descent,  in  their  relationship  to  England,  and  of 
the  noble  inheritance  of  British  literature,  which  is  theirs  as 
well  as  ours.  Should  the  day  ever  arrive — which  may  Heav- 
en in  its  mercy  avert — that  the  "  Old  Country"  should  be  im- 
periled by  the  coalitions  of  despotism,  or  by  the  subjection  of 
Continental  Europe  to  a  great  and  overpowering  military 
barbarism.  Great  Britain  would  have  but  to  say  the  word, 
and  an  alliance  with  the  United  States,  offensive  and  defens- 
ive, would  stir  the  heart  of  the  whole  American  people,  and 
bring  to  the  green  shores  of  the  "  Mother  Isle" — of  which 
Professor  Holmes  has  sung  so  sweetly — a  greater  army  of 
volunteers  than  England  and  America  have  at  the  present 
moment  ships  enough  to  convey  across  the  ocean. 

The  voyage  home  occupied  twelve  days.  The  weather 
was  propitious  all  the  way.  We  saw  but  one  iceberg  —  a 
very  small  one — at  a  safe  distance  ;  and  the  trip  altogether 
was  as  pleasant  as  fair  skies,  a  clover  captain  (both  in  the  En- 
glish and  in  the  American  sense),  and  a  joyous  company  could 
make  it.  Our  run,  according  to  the  daily  estimate  made  at 
noon — an  operation  always  looked  forward  to  with  much  in- 
terest on  board  ship — was  as  follows  : 

Mile,?. 

May  26 290 

"     27 280 

"     28 305 

*'     29 312 

"     30 295 


Mfyl9,  20 

«<  21 

Miles. 

232 

195 

««  22 

180 

"  23 

240 

"  21 

250 

•'  25 

268 

Total 2847 


On  the  twelfth  and  last  day — within  sight  of  home  and 
the  shores  of  Ireland — the  passengers  kept  no  reckoning. 


UOME  AGAIN. 


413 


On  arriving  onco  more  in  England,  I  may  mention  tho 
plca-xant  and  novel  sensation  I  rx|KTicnccd  at  riding  over  the 
excellent  pavement  ol"  tho  Btrects  ot  Liverpool,  »o  HU|)erii»r  to 
tho  bad  pavements  and  worse  roads  of  the  United  States,  and 
the  delight  I  felt  in  beholding  once  more  the  garden-like  beau- 
ty and  verdure  of  the  landscape.  The  hawthorn  and  the  wild 
chestnut,  the  lilac  and  tho  acaeia,  were  in  the  full  Hush  of 
their  early  bloom ;  and  in  rolling  up  to  London  at  the  rate  of 
forty  miles  an  hour,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  not  even 
tho  magnolia  groves  of  the  sunny  South,  or  the  cxul)crant 
loveliness  of  tho  northern  landscape  in  America,  were  equal 
to  the  sylvan  beauty  and  fair  blue  sky  of  England.  *  r>i\  it*, 
during  my  absence,  I  had  learned  to  love  America, .  .i.so 

learned  to  love  my  own  countiy  better  than  before ;  or,  if 
this  were  not  possible,  to  render  to  myself  better  and  more 
cogent  reasons  for  doing  so  than  I  had  before  crossing  tho 
Atlantic. 


THE  END. 


c:  ' 


I  { 


o.'i, 


&1  -'I 


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